


Time After Time

by lostinspxce



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Discord: Bellamione Cult, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, LGBTQ Themes, Mentioned Draco Malfoy, Mentioned Ginny Weasley, Mentioned Harry Potter, Mentioned Neville Longbottom, Mentioned Ron Weasley, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Time Travel, Young Andromeda Black Tonks, Young Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Young Narcissa Black Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:46:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinspxce/pseuds/lostinspxce
Summary: Hermione, in an attempt to escape a group of Death Eaters, uses a broken Time Turner and finds herself stuck 30 years in the past. Maybe she can find a way to change the outcome of the war before it’s too late.*on hiatus*
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 150
Kudos: 546
Collections: Time Travel Bellamione





	1. Chapter 1

The only things Hermione could hear were the sounds of her own heavy breathing and the pounding of her heart in her ears as she sprinted through a completely destroyed Diagon Alley. This was it. She knew there was no way she could escape, but she'd be damned if she didn't at least try. 

She turned down a dark alleyway a good distance from the destruction and paused for a moment to catch her breath. Her mind was racing with the events that had unfolded just minutes before. 

Harry had been killed; Voldemort had won. 

She could still see the terrifying grins that had grown on the faces of the Death Eaters as Hagrid carried Harry to the courtyard. Students and teachers froze in horror when they realised what had happened.

_“Harry Potter… is dead!” Voldemort announced proudly._

_Ginny screamed, and tried to run forward. Arthur had to hold her back as Voldemort fired a spell to silence her. Hermione buried her face in Ron’s shoulder, not wanting to accept what they were being told._

_“Harry Potter is dead,” Voldemort repeated once, and then a second time for good measure._

_A chorus of laughter rippled through his followers, but one laugh in particular caught Hermione’s attention. It was the same laugh that rang through Malfoy Manor as Bellatrix Lestrange pinned Hermione to the ground and carved that word into her skin. Hermione’s arm stung at the memory._

_Neville limped forward, the Sorting Hat hanging loosely in his grip, and more laughter echoed through the courtyard._

_“It doesn’t matter that Harry’s gone,” he mumbled, only just loud enough to be heard._

_A gasp sounded from the Light side, and Seamus called out, urging Neville to stand down. Neville, however, just shook his head._

_“People die every day,” he continued, “Friends. Family. Yeah, we lost Harry tonight. But he’s still with us; in here. So’s Fred, Remus, Tonks; all of them.”_

_Hermione looked around, seeing tears in all of the Weasley’s eyes at the mention of Fred. She also spotted Andromeda Tonks in the crowd, a hand over her mouth as she tried to contain tears of her own. Her heart ached for them, and she felt a sting in her own eyes and a lump in the back of her throat._

_“They didn’t die in vain,” Neville turned back to Voldemort then, who just grinned in amusement, “But you will! ‘Cause you’re wrong. Harry’s heart did beat for us. For all of us. And it’s not over!”_

_He reached into the hat, drawing the Sword of Gryffindor from it, and aimed it at Voldemort. The Dark Lord took one look at the sword and scoffed, aiming his wand lazily as he cast a spell. Neville barely had time to react. His eyes widened a fraction, and that was it. The spell hit him directly in the chest and he fell backwards, the light draining from his eyes._

_A sharp intake of breath left Hermione’s throat and she squeezed Ron’s hand tightly._

Then, all hell broke loose. Voldemort had turned to his followers and simply commanded, "Finish them off," before walking away; the snake following close at his heels. She had watched in horror as spells flew back and forth once more. Except the Death Eaters gained the upper hand far quicker than they had before. Ron fell to the ground next to her, then Ginny, and soon enough each and every one of her friends and fellow Order members were killed. 

Before she knew what she was doing, she took off running. She didn't even know where she was going; the only thought on her mind was to get as far away as physically possible. She apparated as soon as she passed through Hogwarts' wards, desperate to escape. 

She had thought of fleeing the country, but for some reason, the first place that came to mind had been Diagon Alley. Unfortunately, some of the Death Eaters had gone there to celebrate their victory by destroying everything in their path.

She had been spotted almost instantly by Rabastan Lestrange, who was in the middle of destroying Ollivander's. He pointed her out to Crabbe and Goyle's fathers, and the three of them began their chase. When she was far enough out of sight to pause without being found easily, she turned down an alley; which is where she was currently, leaning against the wall, still gasping for breath. Bellatrix’s shrill laughter still echoed in her mind, as though she were only a few feet away from her at that very moment. 

She opened her eyes, shaking herself out of her thoughts as she heard heavy footsteps growing closer. Taking one more deep breath, she began to run again, sprinting as fast as she could possibly make her legs go. 

She hurled herself around a corner and to her horror, came face to face with Antonin Dolohov. He smirked when he saw her, and took a few steps forward.

"We've been lookin’ for you, girly," he snarled. 

Hermione turned on her heel, preparing to retreat back the way she came, but her path was blocked by Rodolphus Lestrange. Looking to her left she saw Lucius Malfoy, and to her right, worst of all — Bellatrix Lestrange. 

"Hello, Muddy," the latter greeted with a large grin, "Miss me?" 

"The Dark Lord has been looking for you," Lucius said, his voice low. 

Hermione looked around desperately, though she knew it was hopeless. 

"Don't bother attempting to escape," Rodolphus growled, "We've got you surrounded. You take another step, and it'll be the last thing you do." He raised his wand in emphasis. 

"Lestrange," Lucius warned, "The Dark Lord wants her alive remember? We can't harm her... not too badly, at least." 

Hermione heard an involuntary whimper pass her lips, causing Bellatrix to cackle loudly in glee. Hermione's eyes were drawn to the sound, and the dark witch pouted at her. 

"Aw, is wittle baby Muddy scared?" she asked, tilting her head in mock sympathy, "Don't worry, pet, we'll take good care of you." 

"That we will." It was Antonin who spoke next, and Hermione turned back to him, only to catch his eyes trailing down her body and his tongue darting out to wet his lips. It sent a shiver down her spine as she caught on to the meaning behind his words. 

She closed her eyes, silently praying for someone, anyone, to come and save her; even though she knew no one would. She had seen everyone she loved be killed right in front of her eyes. She was alone. 

"You should've stayed at Hogwarts, pet," Bellatrix teased, "You'd have been killed swiftly, just like your pathetic blood traitor friends. Now you're going to suffer, long and hard, and it's your own fault. Don't fret, there's nothing you can do to change the past now.”

Something sparked in Hermione's head. _There's nothing you can do to change the past._ But... what if there was? She took a deep breath, feeling cool metal move against her skin under her shirt. Maybe it was a terrible idea. It had been destroyed, after all, she only kept it as a souvenir. But maybe... just maybe, if she were lucky, there might still be some magic left in it. 

_What's the worst that could happen?_ she thought, _Even it it kills me, it'll be a kinder fate than if I don't try..._

In one quick motion, she reached under her shirt and turned the dial three times. 

_Just a few hours back... Maybe I can even save my friends and we can win the war._

"Oi! What-" 

She didn't hear the rest of the sentence; the world began to spin around her, people and buildings blurring together, faster and faster, as she travelled back in time. She closed her eyes, beginning to feel nauseous at the sight. 

Suddenly, everything stopped, and she collapsed to the ground. 

Hermione cracked one eye open slowly, then the other. She glanced around, seeing the same four pathways... with no Death Eaters in sight. She gasped. It worked! She had a chance to save everyone. Tears spilled over her cheeks, faster than she could even hope to stop, so she buried her face in her arms and cried as quietly as possible. 

She looked around again once she had calmed down slightly. Everything looked normal; except it was bright now — almost too bright for it to be the afternoon like it should be. It looked like it could be early morning.

She could hear the distant sounds of people bustling around Diagon Alley, though thankfully none of them were close enough to have seen Hermione appear out of thin air. One voice in particular caught her attention as it drew closer. She didn't recognise the voice itself, but the name it called caused her whole body to seize up in fear. 

"Bellatrix, let's go! Stop fooling around." 

_No, no, no,_ Hermione began to panic, _This can't be happening. I can't have just barely escaped Bellatrix Lestrange, only to land right back in her hands again. What kind of cruel trick is the universe playing on me?_

She started hyperventilating, and attempted to crawl backwards as she heard the footsteps draw closer, but met a brick wall instead. The footsteps that belonged to whoever had spoken rounded the corner, and came to a halt. She shut her eyes tightly, preparing herself for whatever curses the Death Eater would throw her way, but none came. 

"Hey, are you alright?" 

Hermione opened her eyes and saw three pairs of eyes staring down at her. She recognised them instantly. The first one was watching her carefully, though Hermione couldn't see any emotion behind her cold, blue eyes. _Narcissa Malfoy._ The next — the one who had just spoken — was looking at her in concern. _Andromeda Tonks._ The third wasn't even looking at Hermione. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, seeming completely bored. _And Bellatrix Lestrange._ _Except they're... teenagers? Oh Merlin, what the fuck have I done?_

"Wh- What the... How... Where... What?!" Hermione stammered.

"Leave her be, Andy. She looks homeless and sounds just plain stupid, what with all that babbling. Perhaps she's both." 

"Shut up, Bella," Andromeda hissed.

She took a few steps forward and slowly crouched in front of Hermione. 

"What's your name?" she asked.

"H-Her-Hermione."

"Okay, Hermione. Do you know where you are?"

"D- Diagon Alley."

"Good." Andromeda smiled softly. "Now, I'll ask again. Are you alright?"

"I- I don't… Merlin, I’m so confused," Hermione whispered, more to herself than anyone else. 

"Told you she's stupid," Bellatrix sighed, "Come on, Andy, I want to go look at brooms."

"Go and look at brooms then," Andromeda replied in exasperation.

"I can't, remember? Father told me not to leave either of you alone," Bellatrix scoffed. 

Hermione closed her eyes again as the two sisters bickered and took a few deep breaths. She realised how insane she must look right now. 

"Hermione." Andromeda's voice pulled her out of her thoughts again. "Can you tell me anything about yourself? How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Do you go to Hogwarts? I don't recognise you," Andromeda said, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "Bella, she must be in your year, do you know her?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, finally looking at Hermione. "No," she answered, diverting her attention again.

"I'm, er, transferring," Hermione lied quickly, "Starting this term."

"If you're due to start at Hogwarts in two days' time, why do you look like you haven't showered in a year?" Bellatrix scoffed, looking her up and down in disgust. 

"Bella!" Andromeda scolded. 

"What? She does." Bellatrix shrugged, turning her attention away again. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your day," Hermione said, standing up slowly, "I must have had one too many Firewhiskys last night. I should head home." 

"Do you need any help?" Andromeda offered, reaching out a hand to steady Hermione as she swayed dangerously on her feet. 

"No, don't worry," Hermione declined, "I'll be fine. Honestly."

"Alright..." Andromeda didn't seem convinced, but she didn't argue. "Well, maybe I'll see you at Hogwarts!"

"Yeah, maybe..."

The three witches continued on their way and Hermione ran a hand through her hair. She found her wand and cast a few cleaning spells on herself, before stepping out into Diagon Alley. She glanced around and spotted a stand of newspapers and went there first. She read the date on one, and did a double take. 

_August 30th, 1968_

Thirty years in the past. 

_Holy shit._

The newspaper fell from her hands as they trembled uncontrollably and she shook her head in disbelief. 

_This can’t be happening. It’s not possible. Time Turners can only go a few hours into the past; everybody knows that._

She looked at the date again. Maybe her eyes had just been playing a trick on her. She was incredibly tired, after all. She just misread it. That’s all. 

_And what about the three teenage witches who are supposed to be in their 40’s?_ The logical side of her brain argued.

A hallucination, of course. A trick of the light. She looked down at the newspaper again. 

_August 30th, 1968,_ it read, taunting her.

Maybe it was a misprint. She picked up the next paper, and it had the same date on it. As did the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth in the stack. She growled softly, dropping them all back onto the stand. 

She stumbled away from the stand, not wanting to look at the newspapers anymore. Her eyes darted around Diagon Alley, searching for something, anything, to prove that she was still in 1998. 

She found nothing. 

She felt her feet moving, almost of their own accord, and she moved through the busy streets in a daze, until she found herself standing outside of The Leaky Cauldron. She stared at the door for a few minutes, as her mind tried to catch up. 

_Oh, I need somewhere to stay. Right._

She felt her pockets and sighed when she realised she had no money. Of course not. Why would she? She had been on the run for the past nine months. 

She picked up a handful of stones from the ground and subtly transfigured them into Galleons before examining them closely. They weren’t perfect, but they’d have to do. 

_Merlin, this is probably terrible for the economy… Really, Hermione? That’s what you’re worried about right now?_

She stepped inside and handed the coins over, asking for a room for however long she could afford. The man inspected the coins and then shot Hermione a suspicious glance, but said nothing as he directed her to a free room. 

When she entered the room, she closed the door behind her and slid down it until she was sitting on the ground, her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. She leaned her head back against the door and let the tears flow again as more memories flooded her mind. 

_11-year-old Hermione wandered through the Hogwarts Express; opening compartment doors, checking under seats, searching for a toad named Trevor who belonged to a boy named Neville._

_She opened one door and found two boys, surrounded by empty sweet boxes, inside one of which a rat was digging around._

_“Has anyone seen a toad?” she asked, “A boy named Neville’s lost one.”_

_“No,” the red-haired boy replied. It was only then that Hermione noticed he had his wand out._

_“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see then,” she looked at him excitedly, eager to see someone other than herself perform magic._

_The boy cleared his throat and began. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!”_

_A single spark flew from his wand and hit the rat, but other than that, nothing happened. The two boys shrugged, and Hermione furrowed her eyebrows._

_“Are you sure that’s a real spell? Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve only tried a few simple spells myself, and they’ve all worked for me. For example…”_

_She moved further into the compartment and sat opposite the black-haired boy, aiming her wand at him. His eyes widened and he jumped, pressing himself to the back of his seat._

_“Oculus reparo.” Hermione waved her wand and the boy’s glasses fixed themselves, moving his hair slightly as they did, revealing a lightning bolt scar on his forehead._

_“Holy Cricket,” Hermione gasped, “You’re Harry Potter! I’m Hermione Granger. And… you are…?”_

_“Oh, er- Ron Weasley,” the red-haired boy replied, his mouth full of food and a few crumbs spraying out as he spoke._

_Hermione grimaced. “Pleasure. You two better change into your robes. I expect we’ll be arriving soon.”_

_She stood and opened the compartment door again, then turned back to Ron. “You’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know? Just there.”_

_Ron huffed and tried to wipe the dirt off, without any luck. Hermione just shook her head and left them alone._

Little did she know then that those two scruffy boys she had met on the train would become two of her best friends. The memory changed suddenly to a new one; of Hermione in the common room laughing and joking with Harry and Ron. 

She pictured herself sitting in the Gryffindor Quidditch stands next to Neville and Luna as they watched Harry, Ron, and Ginny race around the pitch as flashes of green robes chased after them. Then the celebrations afterwards in the common room, passing around the Quidditch trophy and taking sips of Firewhisky that one of the seventh years had snuck in.

She wished that she would wake up any moment and realise that all this had just been a nightmare; that she would wake up back at Hogwarts and find out that they had won the war. She imagined seeing her friends’ faces as they laughed about what a crazy dream it was. She pinched herself hard to check, but nothing changed, and her mind finally admitted three things she already knew, but didn’t want to accept. 

All her friends really were dead. 

And she really was stuck in 1968. 

And she was completely alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments on the last chapter!

Hermione woke with a start and looked around in confusion, not knowing where she was for a few minutes. She had no memory of even getting into bed the night before. She groaned as she sat up; her limbs stiff from the day before. Her attention was drawn to the window, and she realised what had woken her up. 

There was an owl tapping at her window. 

She furrowed her eyebrows and stared at the bird, who was carrying a letter in its beak. Who could possibly be sending her a letter in 1968? 

The owl tapped the window slightly more aggressively and stared back at Hermione expectantly. She shook herself out of her daze and jumped out of her bed to open the window. The owl landed on the wooden desk opposite her bed and dropped the letter onto it before flying out the window again, clearly not expecting a response to be written. 

Hermione padded over to the desk and picked up the envelope cautiously, looking at it as if it was about to explode. She vaguely recognised the handwriting on the front, and turned the envelope over, confirming her suspicions when she saw the wax Hogwarts crest on the back. 

_Why on earth do I have a Hogwarts letter? That’s… impossible, surely?_

With a shaky hand, she tore the envelope open and pulled out the letter inside. 

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Term begins on 1 September. Please report to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore upon arrival._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_  
_Deputy Headmistress_

Hermione read the letter over and over. 

_Well… That’s certainly different to the usual acceptance letter._

She turned the parchment over, and then looked in the envelope again. She hadn’t been sent a booklist. Strange. 

_As if anything about this situation is normal._

She sighed and sank back down onto the bed, still clutching the letter in her hands. The 1st of September. That gave her an entire day to do… she didn’t know what. What does one do when they’re stuck 30 years in the past? 

_Nobody knows. Because nobody has ever been stuck 30 years in the past. Because it isn’t… it shouldn't be possible._

Yet there she was. 

_Merlin, what if I change something drastically while I’m here? It’s not even a matter of ‘if’; it’s bound to happen. Fuck, I need to get back to my own timeline before I destroy the universe or something. But how can I do that? It’s impossible to travel to the future._

_Maybe I can ask Dumbledore tomorrow; considering he wants to speak with me. Wait… why does he want to speak with me? He doesn’t even know who I am. Oh Godric, what am I going to do?_

Hermione rolled over on the bed, burying her face into her pillow and groaning loudly into it. Her mind was racing again, and for the first time in her life she wished she could just stop thinking. 

An idea came to mind and she got out of bed once again to leave The Leaky Cauldron. Once she was outside, she transfigured another handful of stones into Galleons and made her way to J. Pippin’s Potions. 

As soon as she stepped inside, she was hit with a strong smell of various ingredients and potions. Her nose wrinkled, but she did her best to block it out as she walked to the counter, where an old man stood looking as though he wasn’t paying attention to anything around him. 

“Er- Hello,” she greeted, and his eyes flicked over to her briefly; the only indication that he even heard her speak, “I’m looking for a Dreamless Sleep Potion?” 

He looked her up and down, and Hermione felt like she was being judged, but she didn’t know what for. 

“Fifteen Galleons,” he grumbled, wandlessly summoning the aforementioned potion. 

“Fifteen?” she echoed. 

The man glared at her and spoke again. “Twenty Galleons.”

“I- You just said fifteen!” Hermione spluttered.

“Twenty,” he repeated. 

Hermione huffed, but handed over the gold coins and grabbed the potion, turning on her heel and exiting the shop before the man even had a chance to look at the coins. She had a feeling he would notice that they were fake, and really didn’t fancy being arrested for fraud. 

She returned to her room in The Leaky Cauldron straight away and gulped down the potion. 

_Only way to stop thinking is to sleep_ , she shrugged, climbing under the covers. _It's not like I have anything better to do. And I really am… quite… exhausted._

That was the last coherent thought to pass Hermione’s mind before she drifted into a peaceful sleep for the first time in nearly a year. 

-

The next morning, Hermione woke feeling fully rested; something that had become unusual for her in recent years. She grabbed her wand and cast a spell to tell her the time, and shot up when she realised it was 10:30am. She had to be at King’s Cross Station in 30 minutes. 

She got out of bed and cast a few cleaning spells on herself, catching sight of the scar on her left arm as she did. She frowned, cast a glamour to hide it, and left the room, heading downstairs to check out. The only items she had with her other than the clothes she was wearing were her wand, the broken Time Turner, and the Hogwarts letter tucked into her back pocket. It was a strange feeling; not having anything with her after she had become accustomed to carrying everything she owned in her bag with the undetectable extension charm. Now she just felt empty without it. 

She apparated to King’s Cross Station with 15 minutes to spare, making sure to land in a hidden area, out of sight of any Muggles that might be there. She made her way to Platforms 9 and 10 and, after glancing around to make sure nobody was looking at her, stepped through the brick wall. A wave of nostalgia rushed over her as she came out on the other side of the wall and saw all of the families there; children running around, greeting their school friends while their parents tried to make sure they had everything with them. 

She looked around, half expecting to see Harry and the Weasley family waiting for her, or Luna wandering around with a dreamy expression while Neville searched for Trevor. She even found herself looking out for three heads of blonde hair turning their noses up at the muggle-borns. She scoffed at herself — when did she become so desperate that she wanted to see the Malfoys, of all people? 

She shook her head and boarded the train, ignoring the strange looks she got from people for not even having a trunk with her. She walked to the end of the train and sat in the last compartment, hoping that nobody else would try to sit there with her. She leaned her head against the window and watched as people began to say their goodbyes. 

A few minutes later, the door to her compartment slid open and she turned her head, ready to send the intruder away with a glare, but froze instead. Three people stood staring at her, one of them smiling, another glaring, and the third looking as indifferent as always. The Black sisters. Of course. 

“Oh, hey!” Andromeda greeted, “You’re here. Mind if we join you?” 

“Er-“ Hermione hesitated, glancing at Bellatrix, unsure. Bellatrix sneered at her and Andromeda elbowed her in the ribs. 

“Bella, be nice,” she muttered. 

“No.” 

Andromeda rolled her eyes.

“I’m going to go find Rod,” Bellatrix announced, “At least he keeps better company than the likes of her.” 

Once Bellatrix had left, Andromeda turned back to Hermione with an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry about her. Do you mind if we join you?” she repeated, gesturing between herself and Narcissa. 

“Not at all,” Hermione motioned to the seats across from her, inviting the two witches to sit. 

“Are you excited about going to Hogwarts?” Andromeda asked as she sat across from Hermione. Narcissa sat next to her sister and pulled out a book — Hogwarts: A History — and started flicking through it. 

“Yes, I suppose I am,” Hermione nodded, “I… I’ve heard great things about the school.” 

“It’s incredible,” Andromeda agreed, “I wonder what house you’ll be in. Do you know anything about the Hogwarts houses? Or which one you’ll be in?” 

“I know a little. I think I’ll be in Gryffindor,” Hermione answered. _Since I already am… technically._

Andromeda hummed. “Gryffindor? Guess we’ll have to be rivals then. Bella, Cissy, and I are all in Slytherin.” 

“Oh, really?” Hermione asked, pretending like she didn’t already know that. “What year are you all in?” 

“Cissy is in third, I’m in fifth, and Bella is in seventh, like you.”

 _Great_ , Hermione thought as she nodded in acknowledgement, _I’m bound to have some classes with her then. Why couldn’t Andromeda and Bellatrix switch years? At this rate, I’d even take Narcissa over Bellatrix._

The train began to pull away from the station and Hermione could see parents waving to their children from the platform. 

“It’s strange that you’re only starting in the last year,” Narcissa commented.

“Cissy, don’t be rude,” Andromeda warned. 

“It’s alright,” Hermione shrugged, “I see where you’re coming from. It wasn’t exactly by choice, uh… My parents had to move back to London for work, so that’s why I’m transferring here.” 

“Where did you go before?” Narcissa asked. 

“Er-“ Hermione ran through a list of wizarding schools in her head. 

_Durmstrang only accepts pure-bloods… Beauxbatons only accept students from certain countries… Ilvermorny? That could work._

“Ilvermorny,” she answered.

“Father doesn’t like Ilvermorny,” Narcissa hummed, furrowing her eyebrows slightly, “He says it was co-founded by a muggle. He wanted us to go to Durmstrang since they only accept pure-bloods.”

“Hush, Cissy, that’s just Father and his anti-muggle-born nonsense,” Andromeda scolded. 

“It isn’t nonsense.”

The three witches turned their heads to find that Bellatrix had returned to their compartment. She sat in the empty seat, which unfortunately was next to Hermione, who subconsciously shifted away from her. 

“Did either of you even think to ask your dear, new friend here what her blood status is?” Bellatrix asked, “Because she certainly doesn’t hold herself like a pure-blood should. Her blood is probably as muddy as she was the day we found her in Diagon Alley. Am I right, Muddy?”

Hermione found herself unable to breathe as Bellatrix leaned closer to her while she spoke, a smirk on her face identical to the one future-Bellatrix wore when she cornered Hermione in Diagon Alley. 

“Bella,” Andromeda said in a warning tone. 

Bellatrix ignored her sister and scoffed. “I am right, aren’t I? You’re a mudblood.”

Hermione forced herself not to react as she felt her arm burn at the use of the slur. Bellatrix took her silence as a yes, and pulled away, her face screwing up in disgust. 

“You two have no business associating with such filth,” she spat, turning to Narcissa and Andromeda. 

“Leave her be, Bellatrix!” Andromeda scolded, “Why did you even come back here, anyway? I thought you were too busy with your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Bellatrix snapped. 

“Well, he will be, right? Father has it all sorted out; I overheard him speaking about it with Rodolphus’ father a few days ago.”

Bellatrix shot a glare at Andromeda and stood up, exiting the compartment quickly. Andromeda sighed and apologised to Hermione again. 

“It’s alright,” she shrugged, “I’m used to it.” 

“I don’t have the same opinion as her, by the way,” Andromeda said quickly, “I don’t care what your blood status is; regardless of my family’s views on the matter. I just want you to know that.”

“Thank you,” Hermione murmured, “That’s a relief.” 

She glanced at Narcissa, who seemed conflicted at their conversation. Hermione realised that this was the first flash of emotion she had ever seen the older witch — _younger, I suppose. Merlin, that’s strange_ — show, including in her own timeline, though they had only crossed paths a handful of times. 

Hermione and Andromeda fell into a conversation about different subjects and teachers — the latter gave her a rundown on every teacher in the school; who was strict and who wasn’t, and Hermione nodded along, taking in the ‘new’ information. Narcissa spent most of the time with her head buried in her book, though occasionally she chimed into their conversation. Bellatrix didn’t make another appearance for the rest of the trip. 

-

Hermione walked through the entrance to the castle filled with nerves. She was finally going to hear why Dumbledore wanted to speak to her, but she didn’t know how to face the man whose death she had mourned only a year previously — or, 29 years in the future, technically. More than that though, she didn’t know how she would face the teachers whose deaths she had witnessed only two days previously.

She strayed from the seventh years, who were filing into the Great Hall for the feast, and made her way to the Headmaster’s office. Professor McGonagall was waiting for her, and Hermione had to struggle to contain her emotions upon seeing the witch. McGonagall smiled at her as she approached. 

“Good evening,” she greeted, “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Thank you, Professor M- er- Professor,” Hermione stuttered. 

“Professor Dumbledore is waiting for you in his office,” McGonagall told her, turning to the statue, “Sherbet Lemon.”

The statue began to move, and a spiral staircase appeared from the ground, growing taller and taller. Hermione hesitated momentarily before she stepped onto it, throwing one last glance at McGonagall as she disappeared from view. 

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk when Hermione entered his office, and he waved a hand towards the seat across from him. 

“Good evening, Miss Granger. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, reaching over to shake Hermione’s hand. 

“Pleasure to meet you too, sir,” Hermione responded, “Er- Why did you want to see me?” 

“Ah, I believe this shall be quite a complicated conversation. Don’t you agree, Miss Granger?” Dumbeldore’s eyes twinkled knowingly and Hermione’s lips parted slightly in shock. 

“I- I’m sorry?” 

“As I’m sure you know, Hogwarts acceptance letters get sent to students when they are eleven, yes?” 

Hermione nodded. She still remembered receiving her letter — her first one, that is — and considered it to be one of the best days of her life. 

“So imagine our surprise when the owl who usually distributes the letters woke myself and Professor McGonagall up quite early two days ago and we realised that a new name has been added to our seventh year attendance list for the year,” Dumbledore explained. 

Hermione froze, her eyes wide. _How is that possible?_

“Well, we checked the name and searched the Ministry census records for the past seventeen years, and of course, found no previous records of any Hermione Granger ever being born.”

_Oh. Shit._

Dumbledore chuckled quietly. “No need to look so scared, Miss Granger, you aren’t in any trouble. I have to assume you arrived here by means of time travel?” 

“Er- yes, sir, that’s right,” Hermione admitted quietly, “Although, I’m not entirely sure how it happened. I only meant to go back three hours, not… not thirty years!” 

“Oh, my,” Dumbledore sighed, “That is quite the predicament. So, you’re not here for any particular reason; merely an accident?”

“Yes, it was an accident. I don’t know how to get back to my own timeline. I’m here alone, suddenly the same age as some adults from my timeline, older than others — which is completely insane — and I’m completely terrified that I’ll do something that will change the future for the worse or rip a hole in the fabric of time! Though, admittedly, I’m not quite sure the future could get any worse. I just… I don’t know what to do. There’s no way for me to get back to my timeline, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do while I’m here. My entire life is thirty years in the future; my family, all my friends, everything!”

Hermione groaned, leaning back in her chair. While it felt good to be able to talk to another person about her situation, she hadn’t meant to explode like that. Dumbledore smiled sympathetically, looking at Hermione over his half-moon glasses. 

“I can’t imagine the weight that has been placed on your shoulders here, Miss Granger, but if you ever need a listening ear, or find that there’s anything I can do to help, please do tell me.”

“Thank you, sir, I appreciate that,” Hermione sighed. 

“Now, I apologise for intruding, but I have to know. Voldemort… does he…?”

Hermione shut her eyes tight, images of the final battle flooding her mind. 

“He wins, sir,” she said, her voice cracking slightly, “That’s why I tried to go back in time. I thought maybe if I went three hours back I could change the outcome… I had the Time Turner, I thought it would work… I thought it did work… But then I ran into three witches, who should have been in their 40’s, but they’re teenagers here. That’s when I realised my plan had gone horribly wrong.”

“Time is a tricky thing to meddle with,” Dumbledore hummed, “You might think it foolish of me, but I can’t help but feel that you were sent here for a reason.”

“I- I don’t think so, sir,” Hermione shook her head, “It was a broken Time Turner, that’s all. I knew that when I tried to use it, but I was in a desperate situation. I had no other option. I don’t believe it’s some twist of fate.”

“Perhaps it’s not that simple.”

Hermione tilted her head in confusion and Dumbledore continued. 

“I mean to say, why was it broken in the first place? And why did you keep it with you, if you knew it was broken?” he pointed out, “Could that not be answered by fate, too?”

“I- The Ministry; they destroyed all Time Turners. I only kept it as a souvenir. I used it quite a bit in my third year at Hogwarts, you see, so there were certain memories attached to it that I wanted to keep with me. It’s just a coincidence.” 

“Ah, yes, but wouldn’t you agree that only a broken Time Turner could have sent you here? Had The Ministry continued to allow the use of Time Turners, yours would have only sent you three hours back as intended. Perhaps the universe thought you needed a little extra time to change the outcome of the war. Perhaps it was fate that made you keep it with you.” 

Hermione considered his words for a minute and sighed. 

“I don’t know, this is so complicated. Why would I need thirty years to fix what happened in one day?” 

“Tell me, have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?” he asked. 

“Yes, I think so,” Hermione nodded, “A butterfly flaps its wings and causes a tornado on the other side of the world; something along those lines?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Do you understand what that means, though?” 

“It’s… about how small things can have major impacts, right?” 

“Precisely. So, if that’s the case, could there be something, or someone, in this timeline that has a major impact on your timeline? Perhaps it would be prudent to start there.”

One person came to mind instantly, and Hermione groaned, burying her face in her hands. _Please… no._

“I take it you have something in mind?”

“Someone, yes.” 

“You aren’t fond of this person?” 

“This person is the most feared Death Eater in my timeline. Voldemort’s right hand, for Merlin’s sake! What am I supposed to do? Change their views? I doubt that’s possible. I’ve already met this person in this timeline and trust me, their views are solid. They despise muggle-borns.” Hermione threw her hands up in exasperation. 

“I can’t say for sure. However, I am gathering a group of people who oppose Voldemort’s ways, and I would like to offer you a place; if you would be willing? Perhaps we can even provide some assistance to you,” Dumbledore offered. 

“A group…? Oh! You’re already setting up the Order of the Phoenix?” Hermione asked. 

Dumbledore blinked a few times and then smiled. 

“Order of the Phoenix?” he echoed, and Hermione’s eyes went wide. 

“You haven’t named it yet, have you?”

“No, although I must say, that has a nice ring to it. I’m quite fond of phoenixes. So, would you like to join the Order of the Phoenix, Miss Granger?” 

“Yes! Yes, absolutely. Thank you, Professor,” Hermione nodded enthusiastically. 

_Wait… Is this how the Order of the Phoenix got its name in the first place? No… surely not, right?_

“I believe the Sorting Ceremony is close to ending, and we still need to get you sorted,” Dumbledore said, interrupting Hermione’s train of thoughts. 

“Oh! Right, of course,” she agreed, “Wait… I don’t even have any robes or books or-“

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop her. “That’s all been taken care of.”

He snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared with a fresh set of robes for Hermione. 

“Your books will be taken to your common room once you have been sorted. I’ll leave you here to get changed and then we shall head to the Great Hall.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione said again, as he left the office. 

She changed her clothes quickly and the house elf reappeared to take her old ones for her. When she exited Dumbledore’s office, she found him waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. 

They walked to the Great Hall together in silence and he led her to the front, where a few first years still stood, waiting to be sorted. She joined them, ignoring the questioning looks being sent her way, and Dumbledore took his place at the center of the staff table. A few minutes later, McGonagall turned to her with a smile. 

“Now, we have one last student to be sorted this evening; our newest seventh year, Hermione Granger.” 

Hermione sat on the small stool and McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat — which looked considerably less battered than it did when she was in first year — on her head. 

She heard the Sorting Hat begin to hum quietly. “Oh, you’re a strange one, aren’t you? You’re not from here, no, you’ve done this all before. I see it all here, in your head.”

Hermione eyed the Gryffindor table in anticipation, waiting for the moment when she could join her rightful house again. 

“Hmm… You want Gryffindor, eh? I see. I’ve already made that decision for you, haven’t I? How strange; to be able to see the future right here in your mind.”

Memories of her first Sorting Ceremony flashed in her head as the Sorting Hat looked at them. She saw herself sitting on the same stool, with the same hat on her head as it announced her new house. Then, she saw herself joining the Gryffindor table and being greeted by Percy Weasley and the twins. 

“You could be a Ravenclaw too… You’ve got the knowledge, and you’re eager to learn… Oh, but I’ve already told you this.”

She saw images of the Sorting Hat sitting on her head for nearly four minutes as it debated between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw next. 

“You have a mission to complete, don’t you? Now that’s interesting. Hmm… Bellatrix Black, eh? She’s a tough one…”

 _Don’t I know it,_ Hermione thought sarcastically. She looked at the Gryffindor table again, silently praying that the Sorting Hat would speed up its decision. 

“You could do well in Gryffindor, yes. You know that already, of course, you’ve already been a Gryffindor. How about a change of pace? A clean slate? You could be someone different here; if you really wanted to be. What do you say?”

Hermione turned her attention to the Ravenclaw table, a question playing on the edge of her mind. 

“Hmm… Perhaps, but that’s not quite what I had in mind. I think you could do well in Slytherin.”

_Slytherin?! No, absolutely not._

“No? Why not?”

_I’m a muggle-born, in case you hadn’t noticed while you’re rummaging around in my head! There has never been a muggle-born in Slytherin; not in the past one thousand years, and not in the next thirty! I’ll be killed._

“Oh, but you want to get close to Black, don’t you? How can you do that from another house? Maybe if she sees a muggle-born in Slytherin she won’t think they’re so bad.”

_I don’t want to be close to Black! I apparently have to change her ways. Which is impossible; regardless of whether or not you put me in Slytherin!_

“Ah, but do you really think she’d listen to a muggle-born _Gryffindor_ trying to change her opinions?”

_Well, no, but-_

“Exactly! You may think it impossible, but it would be slightly less impossible from inside her own house, don’t you think?”

_I- No! Slightly less certainly won’t get me anywhere. Especially if I’m dead before I even get to the Slytherin common room. Put me in Gryffindor and maybe I’ll be safe long enough to attempt to make a change._

“Where’s the fun in playing it safe? I thought you were meant to be a big, brave Gryffindor, hm? Where’s that Gryffindor courage?”

_Over there, at the Gryffindor table!_

“I see it all in your head; you’ve got plenty of Slytherin traits in here. You could do well there. Ambitious, determined, goal-oriented. It’s a good fit.”

_I thought you were supposed to take people’s choices into consideration?_

“I do. I have considered your choice, and I believe my decision is better. So…”

_No, no, don’t you dare._

“Better be…” 

_Stop! Please, stop._

The Sorting Hat ignored her, and raised its voice to be heard by everyone in the Great Hall, who were all watching in anticipation. It was only then that Hermione realised how long she had been sitting with the hat on. 

“Slytherin!”


	3. Chapter 3

A hush fell around the room, and no applause sounded from the Slytherin table. Everybody in the wizarding world knew which surnames belonged to pure-bloods, and Granger definitely was not one of those. 

_Right. Off I go to my grave, then._

“Don't be so dramatic,” was the last thing Hermione heard in her head before the Sorting Hat was removed. 

“Well… that was certainly… interesting,” McGonagall commented, “A six minute hatstall; congratulations, Miss Granger, you have just set a new record.”

“That’s not the only record I’ve just set, is it, though?” Hermione muttered. 

“Er- No, it’s not,” McGonagall agreed. 

“Please,” Hermione begged, “I can’t go down there. I’m muggle-born! You know they won’t accept that.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Granger, but I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. The Sorting Hat has made its decision,” McGonagall said sympathetically. 

Hermione sighed and turned to the Slytherin table, where everybody was watching her in a mixture of curiosity and disgust. She caught sight of the Black sisters, and Andromeda shifted in her seat, pointing to the new space next to her. Hermione smiled nervously. 

_At least I have Andromeda._

“Hi,” she mumbled as she sat down. Bellatrix glared at her, and then at Andromeda. 

“Why would you let the mudblood sit with us, Andy? What will people think?” 

“I don’t care, Bella,” Andromeda sighed, “Hermione, you… you know what this means, don’t you?”

“That I’m the first muggle-born to ever be sorted into Slytherin, a house full of pure-bloods who hate muggle-borns, meaning I now have a target painted on my back?” Hermione asked dryly, “Yes, I’m aware.” 

“Are you okay?” Andromeda asked softly. 

Hermione shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Food began to appear on the plates in front of them, and Hermione almost moaned in delight. It had been far too long since she had had a hot meal. She dug in immediately, piling food onto her plate quickly. 

After the feast, she walked with Andromeda to the Slytherin common rooms. As they exited the Great Hall, Hermione’s eyes lingered on the Gryffindors one last time, longing to be with them instead. Upon entering the Slytherin common room, everyone went silent as they stared at Hermione. 

“Get out of here, mudblood!” someone shouted.

“You don’t belong here,” another joined in, free to say whatever they wanted now that they were away from any teachers that might overhear. 

_Oh, you have no idea,_ Hermione thought bitterly. 

Andromeda touched Hermione’s wrist gently, trying to comfort her as taunts continued to come from every angle. She opened her mouth to defend Hermione, but stopped when a hand gripped her arm.

“You are not to be seen defending the mudblood, Andy,” Bellatrix hissed.

Andromeda looked like she wanted to protest, but Bellatrix tightened her grip and lowered her voice to a whisper, too quiet for Hermione to hear. 

”Do you understand?” Bellatrix asked, slightly louder. 

Andromeda stiffened slightly and nodded. It was the first time Hermione had seen her actually listen to her older sister. 

_What did Bellatrix say to her?_

“Good.” Bellatrix released her arm and moved out of sight. 

Andromeda led Hermione to the seventh year dormitory without saying a word. They paused outside the door, and Andromeda bit her lip nervously. 

“I’m sorry, I should have said something,” she said quickly, “I should have stopped them.”

“It’s okay,” Hermione rested a hand on Andromeda’s arm gently, “You couldn’t; not in front of everyone. Especially not in front of Bellatrix. I understand.”

Andromeda nodded softly, lowering her eyes to the ground. 

“Are… Are you okay?” Hermione asked. 

Andromeda blinked a couple of times, looking like she had just been broken out of a deep train of thoughts. She nodded again, but Hermione was unconvinced. 

“Are you sure? Whatever your sister said… it seemed like it affected you-“

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Andromeda shrugged, forcing a smile. “Salazar, it must be getting late.”

“Right. Er- I’ll see you tomorrow?” Hermione asked, her voice hopeful. 

“Of course,” Andromeda nodded, “Goodnight, Hermione.”

“Goodnight, Andromeda.” 

Hermione pushed the door to the dormitory open, finding a room with a similar layout to her old Gryffindor dormitory, except everything was coloured in green and silver, with black bedposts. There was only one bed free, on the right side of the door, and Hermione groaned internally when she looked to her left and saw Bellatrix sitting on the bed opposite hers.

She spotted a trunk at the end of her bed and looked inside, finding a new set of Slytherin robes, pyjamas, the clothes she had been wearing when she arrived, and all of the books she would need for the year. She let out a long sigh as she lay down on her bed, pulling the green curtain around it for privacy. She thought back to her conversation with Dumbledore and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. 

_Alright, so by Dumbledore’s logic, I have to… change Bellatrix Black’s opinion on muggle-borns in order to save the wizarding world? And, what, stop her from becoming a Death Eater? Great. This is going to be impossible._

_Although… Dumbledore might have a point. If Bellatrix never became a Death Eater, then that would save at least Neville’s parents, Sirius, and Tonks. Who knows who else it might save. It was bound to be her spells that killed some of my friends in the final battle too. So even if Voldemort still wins, maybe I won’t be the only survivor._

_Not that it would matter much to me, since I have no way to get back to my own timeline as a seventeen year old._

That realisation hit Hermione so hard that it felt like there was a brick wall on her chest and she struggled to get air into her lungs for a few moments. Even if she did succeed in changing the outcome of the war; she would still lose all of her friends, unless she could somehow find a way to travel forward in time and return at the same age she was when she left. 

She sighed and changed into her pyjamas before climbing under her covers, turning onto her side and trying to get some sleep. 

-

Hermione woke early, in a cold sweat after a sleep plagued by nightmares of the final battle. Her heart was beating rapidly and she took a few deep breaths in an attempt to steady it as she grabbed her wand to check the time. She had an hour before she actually had to get up, but she got dressed anyway, and left the common room to find her way to the seventh year bathroom.

When she got there, she stood in front of the mirror and gasped; she hardly recognised her own reflection. She was skinny; too skinny, from her months on the run with little to no food, and she had dark circles under her eyes from countless sleepless nights. Not to mention the Slytherin crest on her robes along with the green and silver tie under her jumper. 

_Merlin, what must people think of me? The scruffy, mudblood Slytherin who looks like she could collapse at any moment. Great._

She fixed her hair; casting a cleaning spell on it and brushing a few loose strands out of her face, and then returned to the Slytherin common room to find Andromeda waiting for her. 

“There you are,” Andromeda smiled, “Bella said you weren’t in your dormitory; I was wondering where you had gone. Want to go grab breakfast? Then I can show you to your first class; the castle can be like a maze to new students.” 

“Sure, that sounds great,” Hermione agreed. 

When they reached the Great Hall, they sat across from Narcissa and Bellatrix; the latter shooting daggers at Hermione as she sat down. She felt eyes on her from every direction, but tried her best to focus on her food instead. 

“Bella, are you friends with the mudblood?”

Hermione froze, a piece of toast halfway to her mouth, as she heard the voice of Rodolphus Lestrange. She looked up, and saw him taking a seat next to Bellatrix. 

“Absolutely not,” Bellatrix scoffed, “You know I’d never speak to such vermin.”

“Good,” Rodolphus hummed, “She’s beneath you anyway.”

Rabastan Lestrange joined the table too, and spoke next. “A disgrace to the good name of Slytherin house.”

_Merlin, how many bloody Death Eaters go to Hogwarts this year?_

Hermione glanced up and down the Slytherin table, spotting Lucius Malfoy further down. She assumed there were others she didn’t recognise too. 

“I don’t know why Dumbledore lets them in. Hogwarts could be great if it wasn’t infested with filthy blood,” Rodolphus continued.

“If you have something to say, say it to my face,” Hermione blurted before she could stop herself, and silently cursed her short temper. 

“Ooh, the mudblood speaks!” Rodolphus gasped in mock surprise, “I wasn’t aware your kind had the brains to do that.”

“I’ve got more brains than you,” Hermione retorted. 

“Excuse me? You had better learn your place,” Rodolphus growled, “I don’t know what kind of mudblood-loving school you went to before, but you’re not there anymore.” 

“Clearly not, seeing as they let you carry on with your superior pure-blood bullshit here,” Hermione snapped, “Honestly, it’s insane. We have the same amount of magic in us, regardless of our heritage. If you had any brains; you’d have realised that by now.”

“You dare compare yourself to me?” Rodolphus laughed bitterly, “Oh, that’s hilarious. Did you hear that, Bella? The mudblood thinks she’s better than me. Listen here, filth, you don’t want to know what I’ll do if you continue to insult your betters like this.”

“Threatening your fellow students now, are we, Mr. Lestrange?”

Rodolphus’ smug expression fell as he heard McGonagall’s voice behind him, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Twenty points from Slytherin.”

Rodolphus slammed a fist on the table and pointed at Hermione. “This is your fault, mud-“

“Let me be very clear, Mr. Lestrange,” McGonagall interrupted, “If I hear that word pass your lips one more time, I won’t just be taking points from Slytherin. I’ve heard that Hagrid needs plenty of help in the Dark Forest this year, if you fancy a trip one evening?”

Rodolphus growled and stormed out of the Great Hall, grabbing his brother and dragging him along too. Bellatrix glared at Hermione and followed the boys out, muttering something along the lines of, “Watch your back, mudblood.”

“Bloody hell, Hermione,” Andromeda whispered as McGonagall returned to the staff table, “Lestrange isn’t someone whose bad side you want to be on; trust me on that.” 

“I’m already on his bad side,” Hermione shrugged, “That won’t change based on how I react to him saying those kinds of things, so I might as well defend myself.” 

“Yes, but he wasn’t kidding when he said you don’t want to see what will happen. He’s dangerous,” Andromeda said worriedly. 

“I can handle myself,” Hermione assured, “And anyway, how much damage can he really do to me on school grounds? I’m thinking not very much.”

“You’d be surprised,” Narcissa mumbled, “Last year he hexed a mudblood just for looking in his direction.”

“Cissy, don’t say that word,” Andromeda scolded. 

“Father says it. So do Bella and her friends,” Narcissa pointed out, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. 

“That doesn’t make it right. It’s a horrible word for someone who’s muggle-born. It’s not a word typically used in civilised conversations,” Andromeda explained. 

Almost immediately, Hermione felt as though she was standing in Hagrid’s hut in second year after Draco had called her a mudblood, when she said nearly the exact same thing to Harry. 

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realise.”

Hermione looked at the blonde witch in surprise. She never thought she would hear Narcissa Malfoy, of all people, actually apologising for the use of the word. 

_Maybe I can change her views too… It seems like she’s already conflicted about it, thanks to Andromeda. I wonder what changed, if she ends up hating muggle-borns after all._

“Oh, uh, it’s okay,” Hermione replied when she realised both witches were waiting for her response. 

She saw Andromeda’s attention drift for a moment, and she followed her gaze to the Ravenclaw table. She saw a boy with curly, brown hair looking back at Andromeda with a soft smile on his face, and something clicked in Hermione’s head. 

_Oh. That’s what changed. Andromeda ran away with Ted, which probably allowed Bellatrix to swoop in and change Narcissa’s mind._

So, if Hermione succeeded in changing Bellatrix’s views; Narcissa would follow suit.

_Would Narcissa still marry Lucius if she didn’t hate muggle-borns? If I change Narcissa’s views, it could result in Draco never being born. As much as I don’t like him, I don’t want to just… erase his existence. Merlin, there’s far too much at stake here. How on earth can I do this alone?_

She glanced towards the staff table, where Dumbledore was engaged in a conversation with McGonagall. He turned his head and caught her eye, giving a small smile and a short nod. 

_Maybe I don’t have to do it alone._

“Hey, you okay?” 

Hermione was broken from her thoughts by Andromeda, who was looking at her in concern. 

“Yes, sorry, just thinking.”

“About?”

“Er- Nothing important,” Hermiome lied, “Just… Transfiguration, first class.”

“Oh, right. Are you excited about starting classes?” Andromeda asked as they stood from their seats. They parted ways with Narcissa at the entrance to the Great Hall, and Andromeda led Hermione to the Transfiguration classroom. 

“Considering my entire house hates me? Not particularly,” Hermione replied dryly. 

“Well, not your entire house,” Andromeda pointed out, “There are a few exceptions.”

“One exception,” Hermione argued, “Two at the most. Though, I can’t really tell how Narcissa feels about me.” 

“No one ever can,” Andromeda chuckled, “She’ll open up more if you get to know her, and it’ll be easier to read her expressions. She’s not actually as cold as she puts on.”

Hermione hummed in response. 

“Plus, maybe you can make some friends in other houses,” Andromeda added, trying to be optimistic, “They definitely won’t be as judgemental as the Slytherins. Well, most of them won’t, anyway. Who do you have Transfiguration with?”

Hermione glanced at her timetable and smiled. “Gryffindors.” 

“Well, here we are,” Andromeda announced as they stopped in front of the Transfiguration classroom, “I’ll come find you afterwards and show you to your next class.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Hermione said, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the help, but I’m sure I can find my way. You probably have your own friends to see anyway.” 

“I know,” Andromeda shrugged, “I don’t mind. The rest of my friends are all in my year, so I can see them during class. It’s not a problem.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

Hermione glanced at the classroom and took a deep breath before entering. McGonagall smiled when she saw her and directed her to an empty table at the front of the room.

A few minutes later, she felt a presence next to her and glanced over at the person who sat next to her. She did a double take and stared at the Gryffindor in shock. Even though she was thirty years younger than Hermione knew her to be, she recognised her instantly. 

Molly Weasley was sitting next to her. 

Molly eyed her suspiciously, and Hermione suddenly realised she was staring. 

“Er- Hi?” 

“Oh, um, hi,” Hermione stammered, “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, you just… You look like someone I know.”

“Oh, okay,” Molly smiled, “Molly Prewett, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you, too.” Hermione shook Molly’s hand; her own hand trembling slightly as she did. 

“Ah, the muggle-born Slytherin,” Molly hummed, “How’s that going?” 

“About the same as you’d expect, I suppose,” Hermione shrugged, “There’s only about six people who have actually spoken to me so far, and four of them were just insulting me. Although I have made one friend in fifth year.”

“Bloody Slytherins. They’re awful,” Molly scoffed, “No offense. It’s just that they tend to take their blood purity far more seriously than other houses. I suppose it makes sense, seeing as Salazar Slytherin himself thought muggle-borns didn’t belong in Hogwarts.”

“None taken. You’re probably right,” Hermione chuckled. Another Gryffindor sat on the other side of Molly and Hermione’s smile faltered slightly. 

“Oh, this is Arthur,” Molly introduced, “Arthur, this is-“

“Hermione Granger,” Arthur finished, reaching across to shake her hand, “I know. Everyone knows who you are, really. Can I ask you a question?”

Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice in that moment. Seeing so many people who had been killed so recently in her own timeline was quickly beginning to overwhelm her. She dreaded running into anyone else she knew if this was going to be her reaction every time. 

“What exactly is the function of a ‘television’? I’ve heard Muggles are quite fond of them.”

“Arthur, don’t start,” Molly scolded quietly, “You’ll scare her off. He’s intrigued by Muggles, you see, asks every muggle-born these sorts of questions.”

Hermione smiled fondly as she thought back to one of her first meetings with Arthur, when he asked her a similar question about microwaves. 

“They’re a form of Muggle entertainment,” she explained, “They show these programmes where Muggles pretend to be fictional people and there’s a whole story that they act out. It’s… a bit like a book, I suppose, but you see what’s happening instead of reading it.” 

“Fascinating.” Arthur had the same expression as he always did whenever he got the chance to discuss Muggle technology; a twinkle in his eyes and a wide grin, full of excitement and wonder at how Muggles functioned without magic. 

Bellatrix and Rodolphus caught Hermione’s eye as they passed her; both giving death stares, but thankfully unable to do or say anything with McGonagall standing a few feet away. 

“Didn’t you get into an argument with Lestrange this morning?” Molly whispered, “He’s terrifying; I’m surprised you walked away unharmed.”

“It’s all thanks to Professor McGonagall, really. She stepped in to save me before things escalated,” Hermione explained quietly. 

“You’re lucky. I’d be careful if I were you,” Arthur warned, “He won’t let it go that easily.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Hermione sighed. 

“Well, if you ever need a friend, you have two in Gryffindor, right Arthur?” 

“Of course.”

“Thank you both,” Hermione replied, her chest tight with emotions. 

“Welcome, students, to your first class of seventh year,” McGonagall began, gaining everyone’s attention instantly as she spoke about preparations for the N.E.W.T’s.


	4. Chapter 4

“Good morning, Professor,” Hermione greeted as she entered Dumbledore’s office, “You wanted to see me?”

Hermione had woken on Saturday morning to find a note on her pillow — she assumed a house elf had put it there — from the Headmaster, asking her to go to his office after breakfast.

“Yes, please take a seat, Miss Granger.” Dumbledore waited until Hermione had sat down before he spoke again. “I wanted to ask how you have been getting on during your first week at Hogwarts.”

“Oh, it’s going quite well, thank you.” 

_Aside from the constant nightmares, and the fact that the person who tortured me sleeps less than ten feet away from me. Sure, it’s going well._

“I’ve mostly been focusing on my schoolwork. I didn’t get the chance to attend seventh year in my own timeline, you see, so I’m enjoying getting the chance to learn again.”

“And how are the rest of Slytherin house treating you?” 

“They’re… fine,” Hermione lied, shrugging her shoulders gently. 

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly to look at Hermione over his glasses; his expression clearly showing that he didn’t believe her. 

Hermione sighed. “Alright, they’re not so fine. Apart from Andromeda Black and, occasionally, her sister Narcissa, nobody has really spoken to me. Not in a particularly civilised way, at least.” 

She hadn’t gotten into any more full-blown arguments since the one on Monday morning, but Bellatrix and Rodolphus did take every chance they could get to spew insults at Hermione. She had decided to just sit by and let it happen; it probably wasn’t worth the trouble to fight back, and she didn’t particularly fancy getting a bad reputation in the school. 

“It’s not all bad, really,” Hermione continued, “I have made a couple of friends in Gryffindor, too.”

Although it was strange to be spending time with one of her best friend’s parents, Hermione had become quite close with Molly and Arthur during the week. 

“Well, I am glad you’re settling in well,” Dumbledore said with a small smile. 

“Thank you, sir. Er- Is that all you called me here for?” Hermione asked, hoping she didn’t come across like she wanted to leave. 

“No, it’s not,” Dumbledore admitted, “If it’s okay with you, I would like to discuss a few matters with you — more specifically, matters regarding what you came here to do.” 

“What I came here to do?” Hermione echoed, furrowing her eyebrows. _He’s talking as if I came here intentionally, with a plan in mind. Which, in case he forgot, I most certainly did not._

“When we spoke last week, you mentioned that there was someone here who has a significant impact on the future, and the outcome of the war, yes?” 

“Well, yes, I suppose so but… Hang on, can we even talk about this? I thought it could be dangerous to tell someone about the future?”

“Miss Granger, I can assure you, I will be perfectly capable of restraining myself from doing anything reckless with your information,” Dumbledore chuckled. 

“Right, of course you will,” Hermione nodded. 

_This is Dumbledore I’m talking to; of course he won’t do anything stupid… Right?_

“So, who did you have in mind?” he prompted. 

“Bellatrix Black,” Hermione sighed, “In the future, she’s the most feared Death Eater in Britain; Voldemort’s right hand. I thought that if I could maybe… I don’t know, it’s insane, really, but I thought if I could stop her from becoming a Death Eater, maybe it could tip the scales in our favour.” 

“That seems plausible,” Dumbledore hummed.

“In theory, sure. But in reality, it’s impossible.”

“I don’t believe many things are impossible, Miss Granger. Especially in the wizarding world. Surely if it can be thought up, it can be done?” 

“This isn’t that simple,” Hermione argued, “She despises muggle-borns; thinks we’re the dirt beneath her shoes! And, we have no way of knowing if this actually is the thing I need to change for us to win the war. What if Bellatrix doesn’t become a Death Eater, and her position is taken by someone far more terrifying, and Voldemort wins the war even sooner?” 

“If there was somebody more terrifying than Miss Black, don’t you think they would have been chosen over her in the first place?” Dumbledore pointed out. 

“I- Okay, yes, that makes sense,” Hermione admitted, “But, there could also be certain consequences to me changing this. As in, this could potentially result in someone I went to school with never being born! How am I suddenly in charge of that?” 

“It’s a difficult decision to make, I know. However, when it comes down to it-“

“The fate of the entire wizarding world takes priority over the life of one random boy,” Hermione finished, “I know. But that choice rests on my shoulders; not yours, not the Orders, not ‘fate’. Mine. I just… I don’t want to rush into anything and accidentally alter something other than the outcome of the war. I think I need some time to think things over; gather more information and form a solid plan.” 

“I understand, but I feel we shouldn’t delay things. You’re only going to be at Hogwarts for so many months, Miss Granger, and if you want to change Miss Black’s ways, would it not be best to do so here; where you will be able to see her often?” Dumbledore suggested. 

“I suppose so,” Hermione groaned, “There’s just so much to think about. What if we’re following the wrong trail?”

“You know the future, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore stated, “Are there any other possible trails you can think of?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Hermione sighed, “And, sure, I know what happens in my timeline, but what if things have already changed, somehow? I mean, even just my being in this timeline could have impacted something.”

“It’s a difficult situation,” Dumbledore sighed, “Why don’t we meet again next week, after you’ve had some time to think things over. In the meantime, I think it would be a wise decision for you to attempt to develop a… relationship, of sorts, with Miss Black. Perhaps then it would be easier to convince her to join our side.”

“Alright, I’ll try,” Hermione agreed reluctantly. 

-

“Hey, where’d you go after breakfast?” Andromeda asked when Hermione found her in the library after leaving the Headmaster’s office. 

“Professor Dumbledore wanted to see me,” Hermione explained, “He just wanted to see how my first week went.” 

“Oh, that’s nice of him,” Andromeda hummed. 

Hermione caught Andromeda’s eyes flicking past her and turned her head, seeing Ted sitting a few tables away with the same soft smile he always gave the Slytherin. Andromeda had a similar expression as she lifted a hand to wave at him. She turned back to Hermione, and bit her lip when she realised she had seen the interaction. 

“Who’s that?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, that’s Ted. He’s my best friend,” Andromeda answered quickly. 

“ _Just_ your best friend?” Hermione smirked as a blush coloured Andromeda’s cheeks. 

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe?” she stammered, “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course.”

“As in, my sisters don’t even know this. You wouldn’t tell them? Especially not Bella?”

“Oh, you mean during our daily gossiping sessions?” Hermione deadpanned.

“Okay, good point,” Andromeda giggled, “Still, though.”

“I won’t tell them,” Hermione said, more seriously, “I promise.”

“Okay. I… I like him. A lot. As more than a friend, I think. But… It’s complicated.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Well, for one, he’s muggle-born. Not that I care, of course, but my family would never approve, as I’m sure you could guess. Second, my father probably already has someone picked out for me from the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” Andromeda groaned at that, “Third, he’s my best friend! I don’t want to ruin that. He probably doesn’t even fancy me.”

“Are you kidding?” Hermione raised an eyebrow, “He’d be crazy not to like you. Plus, I’ve seen the way he looks at you; more than once. He definitely fancies you.”

Andromeda’s cheeks grew impossibly darker, but a wide grin spread across her face. “Really? You think so?” 

“Absolutely,” Hermione nodded, “As for your family… I can’t say I know a huge amount about pure-blood marriages, but honestly? I don’t think it matters much what your father thinks. What matters in the end is whether Ted makes you happy.” 

“He does,” Andromeda mumbled, “But it’s not just my father I’m worried about. It’s my sisters. I don’t want to lose them. I’m not sure what Cissy would think, but Bella definitely wouldn’t be happy if I started dating Ted.”

Hermione exhaled slowly, thinking of the Andromeda in her own timeline, who _did_ lose her sisters over this. 

“Well, I know what Bellatrix is like, so that’s definitely a tough one,” she admitted, “But it seems to me that Narcissa isn’t totally against muggle-borns. I mean, she actually talks to me, albeit on rather rare occasions. At the very least, she tolerates my presence. That’s something, right?”

“I don’t know,” Andromeda shrugged softly, “They wouldn’t want to go against my father.”

“Well, I do know that they love you, and they would want you to be happy. No matter who it would be with. Maybe they’ll come around.”

“Maybe.”

_They will; if there’s anything I can do about it. I can’t let Andromeda lose her sisters… again?_

“So… What do I do now?” Andromeda asked, pulling Hermione from her thoughts.

“What do you want to do?”

“I- I don’t know. I’ve never had a boyfriend or anything,” Andromeda sighed, “I don’t know how these things work.”

“I can’t say I’ll be much help on that front,” Hermione confessed, “I’ve never had a…”

Hermione hesitated momentarily. She had faced plenty of homophobes, even in the 90’s. She had to assume that people would be less accepting now that she was thirty years in the past. 

“...boyfriend, either,” she finished, deciding to play it safe, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out though.” 

Andromeda nodded, her eyes drifting to Ted again. “I hope so.”

“Do you want to invite him over here?” 

Andromeda looked at Hermione in surprise. 

“You wouldn’t mind?” she asked. 

“Of course not.”

Andromeda grinned and looked back to Ted, waving him over. He gathered his books quickly and moved to their table.

“Hey, Dromeda!” 

“Hey Ted. This is my friend, Hermione,” Andromeda introduced. 

“Nice to meet you, Ted. Andy’s told me great things about you-“ Hermione was cut off by Andromeda kicking her under the table. The blush had returned to her cheeks — and to Ted’s too — and Hermione smirked triumphantly. 

“Really?” Ted asked, glancing at Andromeda. 

“Hmm, what do we have here?” 

Bellatrix was leaning against a bookshelf, eyeing the three suspiciously, and Hermione struggled not to groan out loud. 

“Two mudbloods?” she scoffed, “One was bad enough, Andy. It’s like you’re trying to ruin our family’s reputation.”

“Bella, come on,” Andromeda sighed, “You’re being dramatic. It doesn’t matter who I’m friends with; it’s not going to ruin anything.”

“It could. Don’t you remember what I told you last week?” Bellatrix hissed. 

“I remember,” Andromeda nodded, tensing slightly, “But we’re at Hogwarts; it’s not like-“

“We’ll talk about it later,” Bellatrix interrupted, “When we’re alone.” 

Hermione looked at Andromeda, tilting her head in question. 

“What I talk to my sister about is none of your business, mudblood,” Bellatrix snapped, glaring at Hermione. 

“Forgive me for wanting to know if she was okay,” Hermione said dryly, “Since you seem quite content to… threaten her in some way, or something.” 

“Hermione-“ Andromeda warned, but Bellatrix cut her off. 

“I’m not _threatening_ her, I’m trying to-“ Bellatrix cut herself off with a soft growl. “It doesn’t concern you, so I suggest you shut your mouth before I make you regret ever opening it in the first place, mudblood.”

“Bella-“ Andromeda tried, but got interrupted again. 

“The mudblood doesn’t know what she’s talking about, Andy. She shouldn’t be sticking her nose in places it doesn’t belong.” 

“She has a name, you know.”

“As if a filthy, muddy name like hers is worth even speaking.” Bellatrix shuddered in disgust. 

Hermione just sighed and rolled her eyes in annoyance. 

“What, no comeback?” Bellatrix taunted, “Have you lost your nerve now that Professor McGonagall can’t jump in to save you?”

“Maybe I’ve just realised it’s not worth wasting my breath on arguing with you,” Hermione shrugged, “I mean, you’re so blinded by your own prejudice, you can’t see that muggle-borns are just as good as pure-bloods are at magic.” 

Bellatrix laughed — however, it wasn’t the shrill cackle that Hermione had become accustomed to hearing. It was still as mocking as always, but it sounded a little more sane than future-Bellatrix’s. 

_I guess Azkaban really did bring on that madness. I guess it’s not really surprising; anyone would crack if they were put in the control of Dementors for fourteen years._

Hermione’s chest felt heavy, and she almost felt sorry for the other witch. At least until she spoke again.

“I thought you were joking when you said that to Rod last week, but you actually believe that, don’t you? Salazar, you really are pathetic. At this rate, you might as well go and join Hufflepuff. Or worse, Gryffindor.” 

“The Sorting Hat decided that Slytherin was the place for me, so clearly it saw some sort of worth in me,” Hermione pointed out. 

“The Sorting Hat made a mistake. Slytherin is no place for a mudblood; everyone knows that,” Bellatrix argued. 

“The Sorting Hat doesn’t make mistakes; everyone knows _that_ ,” Hermione countered. 

“It’s a bloody _hat_ ,” Bellatrix scoffed a little too loudly, earning a ‘Shh!’ from Madam Pince, somewhere in the library. 

“You’re acting as if Salazar Slytherin himself placed you in Slytherin,” she continued in a whisper, “Only then would I _maybe_ consider accepting you as part of our house.”

_Well, that’s just great. I knew this would be impossible._

“You know I’ve only been here a week and I’m already on par with you in every class we have together, right?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Are you trying to say you’re a better witch than me?” Bellatrix scoffed, “In your dreams, mudblood. You’re a teacher’s pet; that much is already clear. That’s probably the only reason you’re doing well in class.” 

“You want to bet?” Hermione challenged.

“Oh, how brave of you,” Bellatrix teased, “What do you suggest? A duel?”

“What? No, that’s not what I-“ 

“Bella, stop!” 

“The only way to decide who’s a better witch is to duel, so, come on. Let’s duel. Unless you’re too scared?” Bellatrix smirked. 

“Of you? Never,” Hermione scoffed, though she knew it was a lie. She was terrified of Bellatrix — the future version, at least — and really didn’t want to duel her, but she couldn’t back down now. 

Bellatrix drew her wand lazily, a grin tugging at her lips as her eyes twinkled mischievously. 

“Wait, now? Here?!” Hermione stammered. 

“Why not?” Bellatrix shrugged. 

“We’re in the library!”

“Wow, congratulations; you have eyes,” Bellatrix deadpanned, “Draw your wand, Muddy.”

“No. Not here,” Hermione insisted. 

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and huffed. “Well then, where do you suggest?” 

“ _Nowhere_ ,” Andromeda interjected, “This is crazy.”

“Stay out of this, Andy,” Bellatrix warned. 

“No! I won’t let the two of you duel on school grounds. I… I’m a prefect; I’ll take points from Slytherin.”

“No you won’t,” Bellatrix shrugged, “Come on, Muddy, name the place.” 

“Er- I don’t know, just anywhere but here.” 

“Fine.” 

Bellatrix turned on her heel, looking over her shoulder to make sure Hermione followed her, and left the library. Andromeda and Ted hurried after them, eager to make sure neither of them injured the other. 

Bellatrix led them to the Quidditch pitch — “Training starts during the week, so lucky for you, nobody will be there to see you lose, Muddy,” she had explained on the way — and stopped in the middle, facing Hermione. Andromeda stepped between the two seventh years, eyes flicking between the two of them as she desperately attempted to stop them. 

“Both of you, just stop!” she cried, “You’re being childish.”

“If you don’t want to see it, then leave,” Bellatrix said in exasperation.”

“It’s my responsibility as a prefect to stop these kinds of things!” Andromeda protested. 

“Then walk away and pretend you knew nothing,” Bellatrix shrugged. 

“No! If I leave you two alone, at least one of you will end up in the Hospital Wing.”

“Yes, and it’ll be your mudblood friend,” Bellatrix smirked. 

“Why don’t we just set some ground rules,” Ted suggested. 

Andromeda spun around to face him. “You’re a prefect too, remember? You’re supposed to help me stop this; not encourage it.”

“I don’t want to encourage it, but neither of them look like they’re going to back down. This will happen whether we’re here or not; so we should at least make sure they can’t kill each other in the process,” Ted explained. 

Andromeda sighed in defeat. “Alright, fine. Rule one; no spells that will cause great harm. Simple spells only.”

“Boring,” Bellatrix drawled. 

“Rule two,” Andromeda continued, shooting a quick glare at her sister, “Nothing that will cause damage to the area. That technically falls under rule one, but still. I doubt Madam Hooch will be too happy if you destroy the pitch.” 

“Sounds fair enough to me,” Hermione shrugged. 

“Rule three; if either of you break those rules I’ll take fifteen points from Slytherin and report you to Professor Slughorn myself. Understood?” 

Hermione and Bellatrix nodded; the latter quite reluctantly.

“The winner is determined by… whoever stuns the other first?” Andromeda suggested, glancing at Ted who nodded in agreement. 

Andromeda stood to the side with Ted. They both drew their wands, eyeing each other silently, as if challenging each other to make the first move. In the end, Bellatrix cast the first spell. Hermione blocked it, and returned one of her own, which Bellatrix deflected easily. 

“Is that the best you’ve got?” she scoffed, “Merlin, this is going to be easy.”

“Shove off,” Hermione grumbled as she cast another spell. 

Bellatrix sent three spells in quick succession at Hermione, who only managed to block the first two. The third sent her flying backwards a few feet, landing on her back with the air getting knocked from her lungs. She stumbled to her feet, gasping for breath, and fired back. 

The duel continued for a few minutes, and to Hermione’s relief, she managed to keep up with Bellatrix’s onslaught of spells. She also managed to get a few of her own spells past Bellatrix’s defenses, but not enough to put her at any advantage over the witch. They were neck and neck. 

Bellatrix was in the middle of firing on Hermione when she paused, glancing over the brunette’s shoulder and cursing under her breath. Hermione narrowed her eyes in suspicion, not daring to turn around in case it was just an attempt to distract her. 

“What?” she asked cautiously.

Andromeda and Ted followed Bellatrix’s gaze; both of them groaning when they saw what — or rather, who — she was looking at. Bellatrix’s wand lowered subconsciously, so Hermione took the chance to look over her shoulder. She saw a blonde witch in the distance, running back towards the castle.

“Who’s that?” 

“Rita bloody Skeeter,” Bellatrix growled. 

_Oh Merlin._

“A seventh year Slytherin,” Andromeda explained further, “She’s the biggest gossip in Hogwarts. No doubt she’s running off to get a teacher now.”

 _Somehow that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. I wonder why…_ Hermione thought sarcastically, thinking back to the ridiculous articles Rita published about the Golden Trio in the future. 

_If she’s in Slytherin, how have I never noticed her before? Merlin, I need to pay more attention in the common room._

“Why would she want to get us in trouble? She’s a Slytherin too, shouldn’t she want to keep us from losing house points?” 

“She hates Bella; she’ll do absolutely anything to get her in trouble,” Andromeda sighed. 

_Again, not surprising._

“What should we do?” she asked, “Do we stay here or leave, and pretend nothing ever happened? It’s not like she’d have any proof if she came back with a teacher and we were gone.” 

“There’s no way we could get back to the castle and hide somewhere before she gets back. She’s probably already found a teacher now,” Andromeda sighed.

“Great. So, we’re all going to get in trouble because of the mudblood,” Bellatrix rolled her eyes. 

“Excuse me?” Hermione scoffed. 

“You heard me. If you hadn’t brought up duelling in the first place-“

“Did you hit your head between the library and here? It was you who challenged me to a duel, and it was you who brought us out to the furthest bloody place from the castle to do it,” Hermione argued.

“Only because you were too much of a coward to stay in the castle!”

“I only said I wanted to leave the library! I would’ve been fine with anywhere else in the castle.” 

“Oh, would the two of you just shut it already!” Andromeda snapped, earning a surprised look from the rest of the group. “It doesn’t matter who started it; we’re getting punished either way, so just leave it already.” 

As suspected, Rita returned a few moments later, followed by Madam Hooch, who was absolutely fuming. Hermione could nearly see smoke pouring from her ears.

“What’s this I hear about students duelling on my Quidditch pitch?” she asked, crossing her arms as she stood in front of the four students, eyeing them all angrily. Rita stood next to her, hands on her hips as she smirked at the group. 

“Mr. Tonks, Miss Black, as you are both prefects, I have to assume you’re both responsible enough to not engage in duelling on school grounds. However, I thought at least one of you would be responsible enough to stop it before it began; or to notify a member of staff.”

“It’s not their fault, Madam Hooch,” Hermione interjected quickly.

“Oh? Please elaborate,” Hooch said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Er- Well, they tried to stop us,” Hermione explained, “But the two of us were so caught up in the moment that we wouldn’t listen. They decided instead to keep an eye on us and make sure we wouldn’t do any considerable damage to each other, or the Quidditch pitch.” 

“Well, I am glad to hear that much, I suppose. Still, five points from both of you for failure to find a member of staff to help the situation. You’re both free to go,” Hooch dismissed. 

Andromeda and Ted sent a grateful look in Hermione’s direction and made their way back to the castle together. 

“Miss Skeeter, you may go too.”

Rita’s smug expression fell and she stared at Hooch, looking like she wanted to protest, but a stern look from the Quidditch coach sent her on her way. 

“Now, as for you two,” Hooch sighed, “Which one of you instigated the fight.” 

Hermione — despite every part of her brain screaming at her to clear her name — couldn’t bring herself to throw Bellatrix under the bus. She was supposed to be building a ‘relationship’ with her, after all. She glanced at the dark haired witch, surprised to see that she didn’t seem to have any plans to turn Hermione in either. They eyed each other for a moment, as if daring each other to speak, but neither did. 

“Alright, if neither of you want to answer me, I guess we’ll just have to let Professor Slughorn deal with you.” 

Hooch led the two Slytherins back to the castle and through the halls until they arrived at the Potions classroom, where Slughorn was inside, measuring ingredients. 

“Professor Slughorn?” Hooch called, drawing the professor’s attention from his work, “I have two Slytherins who have just been caught duelling on the Quidditch pitch. I thought it best to let you handle their punishment, as their Head of House.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Thank you, Madam Hooch. Send them in,” Slughorn waved a hand, beckoning Hermione and Bellatrix inside as he waved his wand to pull out the two chairs closest to his desk. 

“Ah, Miss Black,” he nodded in recognition, “And… Miss Granger? Well, I must say, I wouldn’t have expected to see you, of all people, breaking any rules. You seemed like you would be more interested in your studies than engaging in something as foolish as duelling.”

“Teacher’s pet,” Bellatrix murmured, covering it up with a cough. Hermione glared at her and then rolled her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Professor.” 

“Since this is your first offence, I will only take ten points from Slytherin,” he said, then turned to Bellatrix, “Miss Black, this is certainly not your first offence, and I very much doubt it will be your last.”

Bellatrix just shrugged and nodded her head in agreement. 

“Fifteen points from Slytherin. And you will both serve a detention together next Thursday. I believe Hagrid is making a trip into the Dark Forest, so you can go with him.”

“Er- Together, sir?” Hermione asked, glancing nervously at Bellatrix. The idea of having to spend time in the Forbidden Forest with Bellatrix did not sit well with her at all. 

“Yes, together, Miss Granger,” Slughorn sighed, “Perhaps you will learn how to get along with each other.”

Bellatrix scoffed, and Hermione heard her mumble, “Not likely,” under her breath. She couldn’t help but agree. 

Slughorn dismissed them, and as soon as they left the room, Bellatrix grabbed Hermione’s arm, spinning her around to face her. Hermione tore her arm from Bellatrix’s grip and stared at her in question. 

“You seemed to be convinced that the whole situation was my fault before Hooch showed up,” Bellatrix stated, “Why didn’t you tell her that?” 

Hermione thought about it for a second, unsure of what to say. In the end, she just shrugged and asked, “Why didn’t you tell her it was me?” 

Bellatrix paused, furrowing her eyebrows. After a few seconds, she shook her head and stormed away. Hermione leaned her head back against the wall, letting out a slow breath. 

_What have I gotten myself into?_


	5. Chapter 5

Slughorn escorted Hermione and Bellatrix to Hagrid’s hut after dinner on Thursday evening to serve their detention. Hermione felt her nerves growing the closer they got — partly about having to spend time with Bellatrix, and partly about having to venture into the Forbidden Forest while it was dark out. 

Bellatrix, on the other hand, seemed as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her robes and she was mindlessly kicking a stone along the path as she walked. It was probably the most casual Hermione had ever seen her act. 

Hagrid was waiting for them, crossbow in hand, when they arrived. Hermione chewed her lip nervously as Slughorn greeted Hagrid. The last time she saw him, he was in chains, being forced to carry Harry’s body back to the castle. Hermione lowered her eyes to the ground and shut them tightly, trying to force the images away. 

She flinched slightly when Slughorn’s voice, now being directed at her and Bellatrix, broke her from her thoughts. 

“—And you two had better behave. If I hear of any more duelling between you two, you’ll be in detention together until Christmas, are we clear, Miss Black? Miss Granger?”

“Yes, sir,” she nodded. Bellatrix hummed in response, and Hermione couldn’t tell if it was in agreement or not; adding to her nerves. 

Hermione looked at the other witch as Hagrid began to explain the reason for their trip, and found that she wasn’t even paying attention. She was leaning against the wall of the hut, head tilted back, gazing up at the sky as she idly twirled her wand between her fingers. Her pale skin seemed to almost glow in the moonlight, and her eyes, which were usually cold and dark, looked softer now. Hermione hadn’t even realised that ‘soft’ was possible for Bellatrix. 

She suddenly realised she had been staring, and her head snapped back to Hagrid, who was now rambling about being safe in the forest, and what to do if they happened to run into trouble. Hermione’s eyes widened in panic when she realised she had completely missed their instructions. 

“I think that’s everything, then,” Hagrid announced, “You’re both clear on what to do, yes?” 

Bellatrix hummed again, and Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, wondering if she actually knew what they were supposed to do or if she was lying. She hoped it was the former. 

“Good. You two can go left when we get into the forest, and I’ll go right. Get things done quicker if we split up. Meet me back here in two hours.”

They walked deep into the forest together, until Hagrid decided they should split up, and he turned right. Both Slytherins watched him leave and huffed at the thought of being alone together. 

“Er- So… What exactly is it we’re supposed to do?” Hermione asked hesitantly. 

Bellatrix arched an eyebrow and chuckled. “Oh, so the teacher’s pet can’t listen to simple instructions now, is that it?” 

“I can listen perfectly well, I just- I was- Never mind,” Hermione sighed, “Do you know or not?”

“It doesn’t really matter much anyway,” Bellatrix shrugged, “I’ve been to enough of these to know that he doesn’t really give a shit if we do anything or not. He just has to make sure we don’t, you know, die.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Hermione rolled her eyes, “We’re not going to die.”

“This is your first time in the Forbidden Forest, Muddy, you don’t know what lurks in the shadows.” Bellatrix’s eyes twinkled dangerously; clearly hoping to scare Hermione. Unfortunately for her, this most certainly was not Hermione’s first time in the forest. 

“Hundreds of different, potentially dangerous creatures, I know. But we have our wands. And Hagrid is here… somewhere.” 

“He can’t even do magic,” Bellatrix pointed out, “Even so, he could probably beat you in a duel. I’m the one who should be worried, if you’re all I have with me if something were to attack.” 

“How can you _still_ say I’m terrible after our duel today?” Hermione asked. 

“You call _that_ a duel?” Bellatrix scoffed, “Please. You wouldn’t last two seconds in a duel against me without Andy’s rules there to protect you.”

“I still managed to keep up with you. The whole point of it was to determine who’s the better witch, and you didn’t win. Neither of us did. So we’re still on par, like I said.”

“You wish.” 

“Alright, whatever. Clearly this argument isn’t worth debating,” Hermione relented, “So, what do you suggest we do for the next two hours, if not what Hagrid asked us to?” 

“‘We’, Muddy?”

“Yes, _we,_ Black,” Hermione sighed, “It’s a big forest; if one of us gets lost before the end of detention, Slughorn will know we split up.” 

“Fine,” Bellatrix groaned, “But you better not freak out if you see any creatures, or anything. Otherwise I’ll leave you out here alone.”

“I think I can handle myself,” Hermione replied dryly. 

“Come on, then.”

“ _Lumos._ ”

Hermione followed silently after Bellatrix as she strolled through the forest; ducking under low branches and dodging thorn bushes before Hermione even knew they were there. The light emitting from the tip of her wand did little to fight against the darkness of the forest; only giving Hermione enough visibility to be able to make out the green inside the hood of Bellatrix’s robes. She silently cursed the Hogwarts uniform, and Bellatrix’s hair, for being black, now that it was pretty much impossible to see them in the dark. 

A few times, Bellatrix got too far ahead and Hermione almost lost her, having to jog forward to find her again. After a while she resorted to just walking next to her, much to both of their dismay. 

“Where are we going, anyway?” Hermione asked. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes at the other witch. She was supposed to become friends with her, of all people? She silently cursed both her Time Turner and Dumbledore for giving her this mission. 

“Just trying to make sure you’re not luring me out here to kill me.” 

“Keep talking and I might,” Bellatrix threatened, prodding Hermione’s arm with her wand, “The world would be better off with one less mudblood in it.” 

“Can you at least cast Lumos, too?” Hermione asked, ignoring Bellatrix’s remark, “It’s impossible to see out here with just mine.”

“I know where I’m going,” Bellatrix shrugged. 

“Oh, well, good for you,” Hermione muttered sarcastically.

They continued on in silence from then, Bellatrix still not casting Lumos as they weaved in and out of trees and climbed over giant roots. After a while, they came to a small clearing, where Bellatrix finally came to a stop. 

“This is where you wanted to go?” Hermione asked, looking around slowly. The lack of trees allowed the moon to shine down, giving enough light that Hermione could see without her wand. There was a small stream flowing near the edge of the clearing, and there was a single fallen tree in the centre. 

“Obviously,” Bellatrix drawled, watching as Hermione took in the area. 

“Alright, I admit, dumb question,” Hermione sighed, “It’s nice here. Seems peaceful.” 

“And it’s far enough away from the castle that nobody will ever find your body,” Bellatrix taunted, an evil grin growing on her face. 

Hermione just rolled her eyes. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“You seem awfully confident that I’m joking, Muddy,” Bellatrix deadpanned, “What if I’m being serious?”

“I suppose I’d never know, would I?” 

Bellatrix didn’t answer, and Hermione looked over her shoulder to see her in the process of climbing one of the massive trees surrounding them. She crawled out onto one of the branches and sat leaning against the trunk, crossing her legs where they lay stretched out along the branch. Hermione sat on the ground next to the stream, leaning against a tree behind her, facing Bellatrix. 

“So… We just sit here for two hours?” 

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “That’s my plan. You’re free to do whatever you want. So long as you don’t bother me.”

Hermione nodded slowly, glancing around, unsure of what to actually do with herself. This was probably the first time in eight years that she didn’t have to do anything. She was so used to being on the move constantly, that relaxing had become somewhat difficult for her. She changed her position a few times, and began to subconsciously tap her foot on the ground. 

“Can’t you sit still for one bloody minute?” Bellatrix growled, as Hermione began to move again. 

“I’m not used to just… doing nothing,” Hermione huffed, “It feels… unnatural.”

“Well, if you want something to do, we could always finish what we started on Saturday,” Bellatrix suggested, flicking her wand lazily to send a stinging hex at Hermione. 

“Didn’t you hear Slughorn? No duelling,” Hermione reminded, rubbing her arm where the spell hit, “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be in detention until Christmas. Especially not with you.”

“You think I want to be near your filthy blood?” Bellatrix scoffed. 

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but froze on the spot when she felt something land on the back of her neck, slowly crawling upwards. Bellatrix, noticing the look of fear on Hermione’s face, leaned forward to get a better look and began to cackle. 

“Calm down, Muddy,” she gasped through her laughter, “It’s only a bloody _Bowtruckle._ ”

Hermione sighed with relief, and reached around to pick it up, holding it in front of her to get a better look. 

“Miss I-can-handle-myself,” Bellatrix teased, “I’d love to see you go up against any of the other creatures in this forest if that’s how you react to a tiny thing like that. You’d probably have a heart attack if you saw a Hippogriff.”

“Oh, give it a rest,” Hermione grumbled, “I don’t mind the big creatures, but insects freak me out a little.” 

“Bowtruckles aren’t insects,” Bellatrix corrected, reminding Hermione oddly of herself for a split second. 

“I know, but they’re small and they have thin, insect-like limbs. They count as things that freak me out. Well, when they’re crawling up my neck and I don’t know what they are, at least. Up close, they’re kind of cute,” Hermione admitted. 

She lowered the Bowtruckle to the ground, watching as it ran off again, then relaxed back against the tree, watching the water rush past. She could see Bellatrix in her peripheral vision, looking up at the sky again, like she had done back at Hagrid’s. 

A part of Hermione couldn’t believe that she was sitting there with a seventeen year old Bellatrix Lestrange — or Black, as it was now. It still seemed incredibly surreal to her, no matter how much time she spent with Andromeda and Narcissa, or Molly and Arthur. Sometimes she wondered if she had actually been killed that night in Diagon Alley, and if this was some sort of afterlife. Or hell. She wasn’t sure which. 

“Now that that ordeal is over with,” Bellatrix said after a few minutes, “Back to more important matters.”

“And what would that be?” 

“Finishing our duel.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not? Are you scared, Muddy?”

“You wish, Black.”

“Come on,” Bellatrix insisted, “It’ll be fun.”

“I think you and I have very different definitions of fun,” Hermione said, shaking her head. 

Bellatrix sent another stinging hex Hermione’s way, smirking down at her from her place in the tree. 

“What, are you just going to attack me until I fight back?” Hermione deadpanned. 

“Maybe,” Bellatrix shrugged, “Will it work?” 

“Why do you want to fight me so badly?” Hermione asked, turning her head to look up at Bellatrix. 

“You’re a mudblood. And you seem to think you can match up to me, which definitely isn’t true.”

“Well, I’m not going to fight you, Black.” 

“Then you’ve already lost.” Bellatrix shrugged, turning her attention upwards again. 

“Can I ask you something?” Hermione asked after a moment. 

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Bellatrix replied. 

When Hermione didn’t continue, Bellatrix huffed and looked down at her. 

“What is it, Muddy?” 

“Er- Why… Why do you hate muggle-borns?” 

Bellatrix stayed silent for a while, and Hermione wasn’t sure she was even going to answer, so she looked back down at the water. 

“You have filthy blood. Muggles aren’t supposed to have magic. It’s supposed to be carried down through wizarding families,” Bellatrix explained, though it sounded like she had been given a script to say that. 

“Is that the real reason?” Hermione asked. 

“What are you talking about? Of course it’s the real reason. You probably stole your magic from a squib. There’s no way two Muggles could give birth to a witch. It doesn’t make sense.”

“That’s like saying two people with dark hair can’t give birth to someone with light hair, but look at Narcissa,” Hermione pointed out, “Your entire family has black or brown hair and brown eyes, but she’s blonde with blue eyes.” 

Bellatrix furrowed her eyebrows, considering Hermione’s words. Hermione could almost see the gears turning in her head as she tried to figure it out. 

“That’s different,” she declared eventually. 

“How so?” 

“Because… Because that’s about how people look, not their magic. It’s not the same,” Bellatrix insisted. 

“It all comes from their family lines, though. Merlin, I love the wizarding world but it really needs to learn more about Muggle science,” Hermione sighed. 

“Why should we learn Muggle science?” Bellatrix asked, “It’s probably useless.”

“Actually, it would probably explain how muggle-borns get their magic,” Hermione shrugged, “It would solve the whole blood purity issue without some dark wizard trying to murder us all.” 

“I doubt it.”

“Okay, well, aside from our magical heritage, what’s so bad about muggle-borns? Do you really hate us, or are you just going along with what you’ve been taught?” Hermione asked. 

“Why do you care what I think?” Bellatrix asked.

“I don’t,” Hermione objected, “But I’d quite like to know why you insist that Andy shouldn’t talk to me.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Bellatrix mumbled. 

“You’re trying to protect her, aren’t you? That’s what you were going to say in the library?” 

Bellatrix’s shoulders tensed at the question, and she didn’t answer. 

“From who?” 

“None of your business, Muddy.”

“I just want to make sure she’s safe.”

“That’s my job; not yours.”

“Friends protect each other too.”

“You have friends?” Bellatrix taunted, “Who would’ve guessed? Actually, come to think of it, I haven’t seen you receive a single letter since you got here. What’s that about?”

“Are you spying on me?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“What? No,” Bellatrix scoffed, “Andy insists on you sitting with us, so I happened to notice that you’ve never gotten any letters.” 

“Why do you care?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t. I’m just curious; did you actually have any friends back in America?” Bellatrix asked.

“Yes, Black. I had friends,” Hermione sighed in exasperation. 

“Were they mudbloods like you? Or just pathetic blood traitors?”

“It’s none of your business,” Hermione retorted, stealing Bellatrix’s line. 

“No, come on. Tell me,” Bellatrix persisted.

“I don’t want to talk about them.” 

“Aww, does Muddy miss her friends?” Bellatrix pouted mockingly and Hermione, then giggled. “I bet they don’t miss you. Otherwise, they’d have written by now.” 

“Stop,” Hermione growled softly. 

“Ooh,” Bellatrix chuckled, “Touchy subject? Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

She jumped down from the tree and stalked towards Hermione, whose hand subconsciously went to her wand in her pocket. 

“I’ll bet your so-called ‘friends’ are glad to be rid of you,” she continued. 

Hermione turned her head away from Bellatrix, trying to control the anger bubbling up inside of her. 

“Or, perhaps they missed you too much,” Bellatrix hummed in thought, “Perhaps they were so heartbroken when you left, that they just _dropped dead._ ”

Hermione jumped to her feet and aimed her wand at Bellatrix, who just smirked, and raised her own. 

“What’s wrong, Muddy? Have I hit a nerve?” 

“Shut up,” Hermione snapped, “I told you I don’t want to talk about my friends.”

“Why; are you worried that I’m right? That they don’t actually miss you? That they’re happier now that you’re gone?” 

Hermione wordlessly cast Flipendo when Bellatrix was least expecting it; sending her flying backwards a few feet. She got up with a chuckle, brushing the dirt off her robes. 

“That’s more like it, Muddy.” 

Bellatrix fired back, and Hermione’s wand was torn from her grasp, landing in Bellatrix’s instead. Thundering footsteps caught their attention, as Hagrid emerged from the trees, aiming his crossbow as he spun in a slow circle, then lowered it and faced the Slytherins. 

“I was on my way to find you — it’s been two hours, but you didn’t come back to my hut — and saw spells firing back and forth,” he explained, “Thought you might’ve run into some creature… You know what you were told about duelling. I’ll have to report this to Professor Slughorn. Now let’s go, he’ll probably be wondering where we are.”

As expected, Slughorn was waiting at Hagrid’s hut when they left the forest, and he eyed them suspiciously when they arrived. 

“How were they Hagrid?” he asked, “Any duelling?”

“Er- Well…” Hagrid hesitated, but it was all the answer Slughorn needed. 

He sighed, shaking his head softly. “Come with me, both of you.”

Slughorn led them through the castle, up to Dumbledore’s office. As usual, Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, seeming to be waiting for their arrival. 

“Good evening, Professor Slughorn. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Unfortunately this isn’t a social call, Professor Dumbledore.” Slughorn said, and began to explain the situation to him, including both of their duels. Hermione and Bellatrix stood behind him; the former hanging her head in shame, while the latter just looked bored. 

“Well, that’s certainly an issue we need to resolve, isn’t it?” Dumbledore sighed, “Duelling on school grounds is strictly forbidden; I’m sure you both know that?”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione said softly. 

“I wouldn’t exactly call it duelling, Professor,” Bellatrix remarked.

“Why is that, Miss Black?” Dumbledore asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. 

“Well, we keep getting interrupted before it can get interesting.” 

“I see,” Dumbledore chuckled, “Regardless of the extent to which you duelled, there must be punishments for such behaviour. I suppose the best option would be more detention — perhaps until you two can learn to get along?” 

His eyes flicked briefly to Hermione during the last sentence, and she caught onto his hint. He was going to force them to spend time together to help Hermione on her ‘mission’. Great. 

“That’s insane! At that rate, you’ll have us in detention long past graduation,” Bellatrix scoffed, “There’s no point.”

“Perhaps you’ll be surprised, Miss Black.” 

“I doubt that.”

“Yes, well…” Dumbledore trailed off briefly before speaking again, “We’ll start with two weeks, and see how that goes. You will both be notified with the exact dates of your detentions closer to the time. You’re free to go back to your common room now. Miss Granger, I’d like a quick word with you privately, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course, Professor,” Hermione nodded, staying in place as Bellatrix and Slughorn left the office. 

“You know, when I suggested you develop a relationship with Miss Black, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” he commented. 

“I know,” Hermione sighed, “I’m sorry. She just… said something that struck a nerve and I couldn’t control myself. It won’t happen again.” 

“I certainly hope not. Though, I believe the extra time together might help to hurry things along, don’t you?” 

“Maybe.” 

Dumbledore dismissed Hermione, and when she got to the Slytherin common room, Andromeda and Bellatrix looked like they were in the middle of a serious conversation. Bellatrix looked up as Hermione walked in, and rolled her eyes before walking away. 

“How was detention?” Andromeda asked. 

“Bellatrix didn’t tell you?” Hermione asked, eyebrows raising in surprise. 

“She told me you got two more detentions, possibly more afterwards. She didn’t say why, though.”

“We got caught duelling again; if you would even call it that, really,” Hermione explained with a sigh, “We each got in one spell before Hagrid found us, but Slughorn guessed straight away and took us to Dumbledore.” 

“Why were you duelling this time?” Andromeda asked.

“I… I said something that pissed her off, then she said something that pissed me off and I just snapped,” Hermione confessed, “Dumbledore wants us to learn to get along with each other… for some reason.” 

“That sounds like it’ll be tough,” Andromeda commented. 

“I don’t know, one might say there was even some… friendly banter during our detention,” Hermione shrugged, trying to be optimistic, “Her death threats didn’t sound anywhere near as serious as Lestrange’s do.” 

Andromeda raised an eyebrow at Hermione, who chuckled and relented. “Alright, it’ll be difficult. But if I can just avoid any topics that might piss her off, I think we can get somewhere.”

“Good luck with that. What was it that pissed her off tonight?” 

“Er-“ Hermione hesitated for a moment, wondering whether she should tell Andromeda or not. Chances were, it could be a sensitive topic for her too, and Hermione didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. 

“Was it… Was it about the thing she whispered to me the first night we got here?” Andromeda guessed. 

Hermione nodded slowly and Andromeda bit her lip nervously. “What did she tell you?”

“Nothing,” Hermione answered quickly, “I asked her if the reason she doesn’t want us to hang out is that she’s trying to protect you, and from who, but she just changed the subject.” 

“I- It’s… It’s complicated. I don’t…”

“Andy,” Hermione interrupted softly, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I won’t push you if it makes you uncomfortable. And I won’t bring it up with Bellatrix again.” 

“Thank you,” Andromeda murmured, smiling softly at Hermione. 

“So, do you have any tips on how to get your sister to like me?” Hermione asked, trying to distract Andromeda. 

“Honestly, I don’t know. You’re not exactly like anyone else she’s friends with — and I don’t mean that in terms of your blood status. You’re just… different.” 

“In a good way, I hope?” Hermione said jokingly. 

“Of course,” Andromeda chuckled, “Let’s hope that Bella agrees.”

_Yes, let’s hope. It’s not like the fate of the entire wizarding world rests on it or anything…_ Hermione thought, wondering what would happen if she didn’t succeed. She had probably already changed some things without knowing, but would that be enough to change the second war? Probably not.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! School’s been hectic and I hit a bit of writer’s block, so this is mainly just a filler, there isn’t really any plot. Hopefully the next chapter won’t take so long though.
> 
> TWs; Hermione has a flashback to Malfoy Manor, and there’s a slight hint at child abuse. 
> 
> Some of the dialogue in this isn’t mine!

Hermione paused in the doorway of the Transfiguration classroom, glancing around in confusion. Bellatrix and Rodolphus were the only two people in the room, and there was nobody outside either. They both turned to her; Bellatrix wearing her signature smirk with her usual mischievous glint in her eyes, while Rodolphus was glaring at her, his expression completely cold and angry. 

“What are you doing here, mudblood?”

“I- Er- Going to class?” Hermione’s eyes flicked around the room nervously. Where was McGonagall? And the rest of their classmates? 

Rodolphus chuckled darkly, hopping off of the desk he was sitting on, and stalked towards Hermione slowly. 

“You don’t belong here,” he snarled. 

“So you’ve said.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “You know, you really should come up with some better insults. It’s always ‘mudblood’, ‘filthy blood’, or the generic ‘you don’t belong here’, ‘you’re not worthy of Slytherin’. I mean, try a little harder, why don’t you?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Rodolphus shoved Hermione against the doorframe, pinning her to it with his hand wrapped around her throat and his wand pressed into her neck. 

“And what will you do if I don’t, hm?” Hermione’s voice was strained from his grip, but she did her best to keep her expression indifferent; not wanting to admit fear. “You can’t do anything drastic to me on school grounds.” 

“Look around, mudblood,” Rodolphus scoffed, “There’s no witnesses, nobody to come and save you. I can do whatever I want, and nobody would ever know it was me. You’re alone.”

 _Alone._ The word echoed in Hermione’s head. It had become such a familiar feeling in recent times, but it still made her heart ache with the loss of her friends. 

“Fuck you,” Hermione spat. Wait. That wasn’t what she meant to say. She furrowed her brow, confused at her sudden outburst. 

“Ooh, someone’s feisty,” Bellatrix taunted, “You haven’t beaten me in a duel yet, but don’t let it get to your head, Muddy. You can’t take the both of us.” 

“Really? Because these all sound like empty threats to me. What, are you too scared or something?” 

Hermione’s mouth seemed to be moving on its own. She didn’t mean to egg them on, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. 

“Bella, why don’t you show her just how serious we are,” Rodolphus suggested, stepping away from Hermione to make room for Bellatrix. 

Bellatrix smirked and slowly moved towards Hermione. It looked like she was about to draw her wand, but when Hermione caught a flash of silver in her eye, her heart stopped. 

“Recognise this?” Bellatrix taunted, twirling the blade in her fingers, a maniacal grin on her face. 

“Wh-What… How…?” 

Bellatrix just grabbed Hermione by the collar of her shirt and threw her to the ground, knocking the air out of her lungs. The room seemed to spin around them, until it had morphed into Malfoy Manor, and Bellatrix Black had morphed into Bellatrix Lestrange; older, stronger, and significantly more insanity behind her grin. 

“Hello, Muddy.”

Hermione flinched and tried to crawl backwards, only to hit an invisible wall; unable to move anywhere. Bellatrix took a step forward, lazily twirling the knife in her hands. 

“Where did you… Where did I…?” 

“Don’t speak!” Bellatrix snapped.

Hermione whimpered softly, closing her eyes and turning her face away, silently willing herself to wake up. Bellatrix shoved her again, her back hitting the ground hard, and straddled her. 

“Where did you get the sword?” 

_No, no, no. Not this again. Please, not this again._ Hermione pleaded, begging her own mind to change the scene playing out in front of her. 

“W-We found it. We found it! Please.”

Hermione’s mouth was moving on its own; repeating the words she spoke that night. 

“You’re lying, filthy mudblood, and I know it! You’ve been inside my vault at Gringotts!” Bellatrix accused, “Tell the truth. Tell the truth!”

Tears streamed down Hermione’s cheeks and she shook her head, a sob escaping from her lips. 

“What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!” 

She screamed as a familiar burning pain shot through her arm, following the motions of the knife she hadn’t even realised had begun to move. She thrashed underneath the dark witch, trying desperately to buck her off, but Bellatrix only pressed her further into the ground, further restricting her movement. She was trapped. 

She screamed until her throat was hoarse, until she shot up in her bed gasping for breath. She looked around, confused for a moment when she saw she was surrounded by green curtains, until she remembered where she was. 

Hermione hugged her knees to her chest and tried to take a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart. 

_Merlin, please tell me I didn’t scream out loud._

The last thing she needed was Bellatrix hearing and taunting her. Especially after that nightmare. She slowly pulled the curtain back with a shaking hand and peered out into the dormitory, holding her breath to listen for any signs of life. Nobody seemed to be awake. 

She drew the curtain closed again and leaned against the headboard, feeling tears slowly roll down her cheeks. Malfoy Manor had only been a few weeks before, but until that moment she had pushed it down; blocked it out to focus on fighting the war. 

More so, she found it hard to believe that she had been able to face Bellatrix in this timeline, especially so soon after the incident. Though, if she really thought about it, for some reason she didn’t see Bellatrix Black as the same person who tortured her in Malfoy Manor. 

Sure, this Bellatrix clearly hated her, and taunted her almost constantly, but she couldn’t imagine her turning out to be so… cruel. After the Forbidden Forest, and Hermione’s brief insight into Bellatrix’s views on muggle-borns — or, the views she had been taught, at least — she didn’t think it would be as impossible to change the witch’s mind as she once thought it might be. 

She remembered Bellatrix’s words; how she had sounded like someone was whispering in her ear, telling her exactly what to say. She imagined a younger Bellatrix, being taught all of that hate, and felt an ache in her heart. 

_Hang on, do I actually feel… sorry, for Bellatrix Black? Gods, no, this is not happening. She hates you, Hermione, tortured you. Get a grip._

Although, she didn’t deny trying to protect her sisters. Who could they possibly need protecting against? She racked her brain, and eventually landed on one name. 

Cygnus Black III. 

As far as Hermione knew, he was the one who insisted Andromeda be removed from the family tapestry after she left. And he was a known follower of Voldemort in the First Wizarding War. It had to be him. 

So, if she was right, then Bellatrix was trying to protect Andromeda and Narcissa from… their father. 

_Oh, fuck. Please don’t tell me…_

Hermione wondered if he was the main reason Andromeda ran away; not to be with Ted, though it was a factor of course, but to get away from her father. If that was true, though, why didn’t Bellatrix and Narcissa follow suit? 

_Merlin, now I really do feel sorry for Bellatrix,_ Hermione groaned softly, _She really goes through a lot; it’s no wonder she turns out the way she does. After her father, being under Voldemort’s rule, the war, Azkaban… Anyone would snap._

Hermione shivered at the thought, and pulled her duvet up, wrapping it tightly around herself to block out both the image, and the early morning chill that was beginning to creep in. 

_No, no, no. Hermione, this is crazy. This is Bellatrix Lestrange we’re talking about. She killed Sirius and Tonks, she’s responsible for Neville’s parents, and she tortured you! She’s a terrible person._

But no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she kept circling back to the same point. Circumstances turned Bellatrix Black into Bellatrix Lestrange, not an inherent madness or hate. It was learned. Something that could potentially be undone. 

Something _Hermione_ had to try to undo. 

_Well, fuck._

Hermione gave a quiet, half-hearted laugh. She was going to try to befriend Bellatrix Black. Oh, if only her friends could see her now. The looks on their faces would be priceless. 

Ron would probably try to talk her out of it. He’d say it was too dangerous; that they could find some other way to win the war. Anything to keep Hermione out of danger, of course. She smiled softly, imagining the look of concern on his face. 

Harry, on the other hand, wouldn’t object so outwardly. He might disagree, but he would know that it would be the best thing to help them win. He would trust Hermione’s judgement. 

Ginny would most likely storm right up to Bellatrix and threaten her, saying that if she so much as looked at Hermione the wrong way, she’d hex her into next year. 

Hermione chuckled softly. Gods, she missed them. How had it only been two weeks? It felt like the war had taken place years ago, or even in another lifetime.

Hermione supposed that maybe it had. She certainly didn’t feel like the same person she was in 1998. On more than one occasion, she found herself checking the mirrors closely; inspecting her reflection for any signs that she wasn’t actually Hermione Granger. Perhaps she wasn’t even there at all. Perhaps she had died at Hogwarts alongside her friends, and this was the afterlife. 

_Some afterlife I’ve been placed in, huh?_

However, she found no evidence to back up her theory, and wasn’t sure whether that was a relief or not. 

She thought about her friends; wondered whether there was an afterlife, or whether it was just something people used to make death seem a little less frightening. She didn’t think it did. If anything, the thought of dying and continuing on afterwards as if nothing happened frightened her more than the thought of there being nothing at all. 

The sound of movement from another bed caught Hermione’s attention, breaking her train of thoughts, and she sat as still as possible, trying to listen. The bed across from hers creaked slightly; signalling that Bellatrix was getting up. 

Hermione furrowed her brow. Surely it was still far too early for anyone to be awake. She stayed frozen, listening to Bellatrix rummage around for a few minutes. Finally, the door opened and closed quietly, allowing her to relax again knowing that Bellatrix was gone. 

She grabbed her wand and cast a Tempus spell to check the time. It wasn’t even five o’clock yet. 

_What on earth is she doing up so early?_ Hermione wondered, then shook her head softly. It was none of her business, no matter how curious she was. 

She sighed and lay down fully, deciding she should probably at least try to get some more sleep. 

***

Hermione woke up a few hours later to the sound of people talking around her. She assumed it was the other girls in her dormitory getting ready to go for breakfast, and checked the time to confirm. She dragged herself out of bed too after her stomach grumbled loudly, and got dressed. 

When she arrived at the Great Hall, the first thing she noticed was that Andromeda and Bellatrix were nowhere to be seen. She furrowed her brow and sat in her usual seat across from Narcissa, who didn’t even look up from her book. 

“Er- Where’s Andy?” 

Narcissa only glanced up for long enough to say, “Quidditch practice.” 

“Oh. I thought that was usually in the evenings?” 

“The other teams practice in the evenings, but that means they only have a certain amount of time before the next team arrives,” Narcissa explained, “The Slytherins prefer to get up early so they can’t be interrupted. It also means that none of the other teams are bothered to wake that early to spy on them.” 

_Ah, that explains why Bellatrix was up so early,_ Hermione realised, _Why am I even surprised? Typical Slytherin move, really._

She nodded in response, allowing Narcissa to return to her book, and ate in silence. Afterwards, Hermione made her way to the library. She might as well catch up on schoolwork while she has the time — not that she was behind in anything, of course. 

“Hello, Hermione.” 

Hermione started, having been so lost in her book that she hadn’t even noticed the presence of two Gryffindors next to her.

“Hey Molly, Arthur,” she replied. She gestured to the chairs across from her, inviting them to sit. 

“Can I ask you something?” Arthur asked, a familiar glint in his eyes. 

“Of course.”

“How do Muggles preserve their food?” 

“They use an invention called a refrigerator,” Hermione chuckled, “It keeps the food at a low temperature to stop it going rotten.” 

“Interesting,” Arthur hummed, “I’ve always wondered how they do that without magic.” 

Molly shook her head in exasperation, but she couldn’t hold back the adoring smile that grew on her lips as she looked at Arthur. 

“Hermione, I heard you had detention with Black on Thursday,” Molly said with a grimace, “How did that go?”

“About as well as you’d expect,” Hermione sighed, “Long story short, we got two more detentions together.” 

“Merlin,” Molly groaned, “How you got out of the first one alive is a miracle to me.” 

“Me too,” Hermione agreed. 

The door opening in the corner of Hermione’s eye and she saw Bellatrix burst through, a wide grin on her face. She was still wearing her Quidditch uniform, broom in hand, and she was absolutely drenched. Drops of water fell from her hair, clothes, and broom, and created a puddle on the floor. Not to mention, she was covered from head to toe in mud. It must have been raining while they were practicing. 

Bellatrix spotted Hermione and gestured to her own appearance, already laughing at a joke she hadn’t made yet. 

“Hey, look! I’m _almost_ as muddy as you!” 

Hermione didn’t even have time to think of a response before Madam Pince stormed over.

“Bellatrix Black!” she screeched, “What have I told you about coming into the library after Quidditch?”

“Er- Don’t?” Bellatrix asked, shrugging innocently. 

“Get out!” 

Bellatrix turned on her heel and ran out of the library again, leaving Hermione, Molly, and Arthur to exchange confused expressions.

“Did she run all the way here just to say that?” Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Seems like it.” Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at that; Bellatrix was determined, that was for sure. 

Andromeda was the next to enter the room, and Madam Pince looked as though she would rather retire right there and then, than deal with another Black sister. 

“I already told your sister-“

“I’m clean!” Andromeda interrupted, holding her hands up in surrender, “I washed the mud off and changed before I came here.”

Madam Pince let out a sigh of relief and nodded, giving Andromeda permission to join Hermione and the two Gryffindors at their table. 

“Sorry I wasn’t at breakfast,” Andromeda said, “Quidditch practice.”

“Narcissa told me,” Hermione nodded, “I didn’t know you played. Or Bellatrix.”

“You should come and watch one of our games!” Andromeda said excitedly. She bit her lip then, growing nervous. “If you want to, of course. I don’t even know if you like Quidditch… Never mind, it was stupid-“

“No, no, I’d love to watch,” Hermione insisted. 

“Really?” The excitement returned to Andromeda’s face and Hermione smiled. 

“Of course.” 

“Great! Our first game is in a week and a half, against the Hufflepuffs. Should be an easy win,” Andromeda chuckled, “Did you play Quidditch in Ilvermorny?” 

“Oh, no,” Hermione shook her head, “Definitely not. I hate flying. My- My friends played, but I preferred to watch from the safety of the ground.”

“Really? Salazar, I love flying.” 

“On those tiny broomsticks? Merlin, you couldn’t pay me enough to get on one of those again. How can you stay on them; especially at such high speeds?” Hermione shuddered at the thought; imagining herself so high up with nothing but a piece of wood holding her up.

“A lot of practice. I used to get nervous too, until I got my balance,” Andromeda admitted, “It seems you and Cissy have more in common than you’d think. She hates flying, too.”

 _Narcissa Malfoy and I having something in common? There’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear,_ Hermione thought. 

For a moment she was brought back to Malfoy Manor, when she had met Narcissa’s gaze; her eyes trained on Hermione, and posture unwavering, as she watched a seventeen year old being tortured in her own house. A shiver ran down Hermione’s spine at the memory. 

_How could anyone-_

“Hey, are you okay?” Andromeda asked, squeezing Hermione’s shoulder and bringing her back to the present. 

“Er- Yes. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You completely zoned out for a minute there,” Molly added, “Where did you go?”

“No-Nowhere. It’s not important. I just got distracted,” Hermione dismissed, “What were we talking about?” 

“Arithmancy.” Andromeda gestured to her book, which was now open on the table. “I can’t figure this problem out.”

Well, that was definitely something Hermione could focus on. 

“Need a hand?” she asked, leaning over to get a better look at the book. “Oh, I see. What you need to do is…”


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione and Andromeda spent an hour studying before the younger witch invited Hermione to visit Hogsmeade with her and Ted. Hermione agreed, despite the worry in the back of her mind about having no money. She supposed she could always Transfigure some, but she really didn’t fancy doing anything else illegal now that it wasn’t absolutely necessary. In the end she decided to keep a few Transfigured Galleons in her pocket just in case, but she wouldn’t spend them if she didn’t have to. 

The two of them met with Ted in the courtyard and walked to Hogsmeade together. Their first stop was the Quidditch shop, where Andromeda inspected all the supplies with an excited grin. Hermione took notice of the adoring smile on Ted’s face as he listened to Andromeda rave about different types of brooms, and chuckled to herself. Both of them were smitten, but neither of them knew it yet. 

Next, they went to the bookshop, where Hermione and Ted took their time examining the shelves while Andromeda waited patiently. Finally, the three of them ended up at the Three Broomsticks and sat in a booth together; Hermione on one side, opposite Andromeda and Ted. 

They ordered three Butterbeers and lapsed into a conversation about how Professor Flitwick fell off his stack of books while demonstrating a spell to the third years. He was fine afterwards, but he spent the rest of the class standing with both feet safely on the floor. 

“I heard he landed on a student’s desk!” Ted laughed. 

“Oh, Merlin. Could you imagine? One moment you’re watching Flitwick, and the next he’s sitting on your Charms homework?” Hermione shook her head at the image. 

“You would think he’d use something a little easier to balance than a stack of books to stand on, wouldn’t you?” Andromeda added, “I mean, it’s no wonder he fell, really.” 

“Maybe this will encourage him to get a proper stand,” Ted suggested.

Hermione pictured her Charms classes from the 90’s and smiled to herself, shaking her head. 

“I don’t see that happening any time soon,” she shrugged, “He’ll probably still be using that stack of books… thirty years from now.” 

Andromeda and Ted nodded in agreement, while Hermione giggled quietly at her own, private joke. 

They stayed there for a few hours; talking, laughing, and drinking Butterbeer, until they decided to head back to the castle. It had grown cold quite quickly, and none of them were suitably dressed for the sharp drop in temperature. 

They paid for their drinks and left the pub, but Ted ran back inside to use the bathroom, leaving Hermione and Andromeda outside waiting for him. As he left, Hermione spotted Rodolphus and Rabastan walking towards them, and groaned. 

“Well, well, well,” Rodolphus sang, “What do we have here?” 

“What do _you_ want?” Hermione scoffed. 

“I thought I told you to learn some manners? That isn’t any way to talk to your betters,” Rodolphus snapped.

“Funny,” Hermione said dryly, “I don’t see any of my betters around here. Hang on, you don’t mean yourself, do you?” she laughed. 

Andromeda chuckled and tried to cover it up with a cough, but Rodolphus caught it, and turned to her with a sharp glare. 

“You think that’s funny, do you? Just wait until I tell Bella you were out here, in public, slumming it with a mudblood. Perhaps I ought to teach you a lesson too. Your father certainly didn’t do a good job of it, if you think associating with such vermin is acceptable behaviour.”

Andromeda visibly flinched at the mention of her father, so Hermione stepped in.

“And how do you think she would react to you threatening her sister?” Hermione countered, “I doubt she would be very pleased with you.”

“Bella knows that it’s a necessary lesson to learn,” Rodolphus said, “She’ll be happy to know that Andy is being reminded of her place in society.” 

“You know, something tells me that isn’t true. Why don’t we go find her and ask?” 

“You’re acting awfully brave for someone who doesn’t have any teachers around to save her,” Rabastan commented, “You have no idea what you’re up against.”

Hermione looked him up and down and chuckled. “Believe me, I know exactly what I’m up against. You don’t scare me, Lestrange. That goes for both of you.”

“You want to bet?” Rodolphus asked, drawing his wand. 

Andromeda jumped into action then, putting herself between Hermione and Rodolphus. 

“Let’s all just walk away, alright?” she suggested, trying to diffuse the situation, “There’s no need to do anything drastic.”

In an instant, the wand was pointed at Andromeda’s neck. 

“Stay out of this, Andy, or I swear to Salazar I’ll-“

“Don’t even think about it,” Hermione interrupted, aiming her own wand at the wizard, who glanced at it and smirked. 

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said with a grin, digging his wand harder into Andromeda’s neck. 

“Get your fucking wand away from her, I mean it,” Hermione growled, reaching for Andromeda’s arm, ready to pull her out of the way. 

“Such foul language,” Rodolphus gasped mockingly, resting a hand over his chest, “I guess it makes sense, coming from your foul, muddy mouth.” 

“You’re talking an awful lot for someone who was hell bent on hexing me a minute ago,” Hermione pointed out, “You haven’t lost your nerve, have you?” 

Instead of answering, Rodolphus fired a spell at Hermione. She cast Protego, while pushing Andromeda out of the way, and readied herself for a duel. 

“Stupefy!” she returned. He blocked it easily, and laughed. 

“Flipendo.”

“Protego. Expelliarmus.” 

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Rodolphus taunted, barely having to move a muscle to defend himself. 

Hermione narrowed her eyebrows and adjusted her stance. “Petrificus Totalus.” 

Andromeda, who had previously been frozen in shock, reached for her own wand to help Hermione. Rabastan noticed this, and before she could do anything, he cast a spell and Andromeda’s wand flew from her hand into his. He grabbed her tightly by the arm, pressing his wand to her neck and tutting in her ear. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” he muttered. 

“Let her go,” Hermione demanded, aiming her wand at Rabastan. Her moment of distraction was enough for Rodolphus to strike.

“Flipendo!” 

Hermione felt herself flying through the air, and then crashing to the ground in a heap. She groaned softly and quickly jumped to her feet.

“What the hell?” 

Ted had returned from the bathroom and now stood in the doorway of the Three Broomsticks, staring at the scene in front of him in shock. 

“Two mudbloods?” Rodolphus scoffed, “Merlin, your father will be so disappointed when he hears about this, Andy. Stupefy!”

Andromeda’s eyes widened a fraction and she struggled against Rabastan’s hold as she watched Ted crumple to the ground, unconscious. 

“Stupefy!” Hermione echoed. Rodolphus’ head whipped around to her, already casting Protego, but the spell wasn’t aimed at him. 

Rabastan, who had been laughing at Ted and hadn’t noticed Hermione turning her wand on him, fell to the ground too. Andromeda moved to grab her wand, but Hermione stopped her. 

“Check on Ted,” she instructed. Andromeda looked like she wanted to protest, but Hermione nodded her head in the Ravenclaw’s direction, silently insisting. 

“Fucking bitch,” Rodolphus snarled.

“Protego,” Hermione said quickly, blocking Rodolphus’ Petrificus Totalus. She held the shield as best she could as the wizard continued to send an onslaught of spells her way, barely pausing for breath in between incantations. 

He moved closer and closer, pushing Hermione backwards, until she tripped over a sign outside of a shop, landing flat on her back. Her wand flew out of her hand, and she tried to reach for it, but Rodolphus was quicker. 

“Rodolphus, stop this right now, you bloody fool!” Andromeda shouted, “You’ve disarmed her; it’s over! Let it go, for Merlin’s sake.”

His eyes flashed and his grin grew dark as he whispered his next spell. It wasn’t aimed at Hermione this time, but Andromeda, who stiffened in fear. 

_“Crucio.”_

Andromeda closed her eyes, bracing herself. A gut wrenching scream rang out through Hogsmeade, drawing the attention of passers-by, who all stood frozen, watching in horror. However, the sound hadn’t come from Andromeda’s mouth. 

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking in confusion, then gasped when she looked down and saw Hermione writhing in pain in front of her. 

“Rodolphus, what the hell?!” Andromeda cried, in total shock at the use of the Unforgivable Curse. 

She threw herself towards Rabastan and grabbed her wand, aiming it at Rodolphus. Before she could even open her mouth to speak an incantation, another voice caught their attention. 

“Mr. Lestrange! Put that wand down this instant!” 

It was McGonagall, running towards them with an expression of utter rage, followed by Slughorn, Flitwick, and Kettleburn. Her own wand was aimed at the wizard too. 

Rodolphus didn’t pay them any attention, just stood and watched Hermione as her whole body contorted in excruciating pain. There was a sickening grin on his face; clearly enjoying it. 

“Expelliarmus!” 

His eyes snapped to McGonagall as his wand flew to her hand. McGonagall’s eyes were on Hermione, her lips parted in horror as the witch began to fade out of consciousness. 

“Never in all my years of teaching-“ she gasped, “An Unforgivable Curse! There will be _severe_ consequences for this, Mr. Lestrange, you mark my words.” 

“Take it up with my father,” Rodolphus shrugged. He gestured to Rabastan and added, “The mudblood attacked my brother, for no reason! He’ll be furious, you know. He might even take it up with the Ministry, and I doubt that would be good for the school’s image, don’t you agree?” 

“That’s not true!” Andromeda protested, “Professors, he provoked Hermione. She was only defending herself, and me.” 

Rodolphus shot a glare at Andromeda, while McGonagall held up a hand to silence them both. 

“We will discuss this back at the castle,” she sighed, “First, however, we need to take these three students to the Hospital Wing. Miss Black, will you please come with me? Mr. Lestrange, you may return with Professor Slughorn.” 

Slughorn escorted Rodolphus back to the castle, while the remaining teachers each cast Wingardium Leviosa on one of the unconscious students and levitated them to the Hospital Wing. Andromeda followed them, keeping a close eye on both Hermione and Ted. 

She opened the doors to the Hospital Wing for them, allowing the teachers to bring the students in and lay them down on beds.

“What in Merlin’s name happened?” Madam Pomfrey asked, looking unsure of who to go to first. McGonagall directed her to Hermione, then turned to Andromeda. 

“I’d quite like to know that too,” she said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Er- Well, Hermione, Ted, and I were at the Three Broomsticks together, and…” 

Andromeda told them the whole story, sparing no detail, while Madam Pomfrey tended to Hermione. McGonagall listened intently, looking completely horrified at Rodolphus’ actions. 

“Will Hermione be okay?” Andromeda asked. 

“Yes, I believe so. She will need her rest, especially after a Cruciatus Curse, but that’s all,” Madam Pomfrey answered. 

“And Ted?” 

“What was he hit with?”

“Just a stunning spell.”

Madam Pomfrey turned to the boy in the bed next to Hermione’s and raised her wand. 

“Rennervate.” 

Ted stirred and opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the light. He shot up suddenly, looking around the room. Once he saw Andromeda, he calmed slightly, but still looked at Hermione with a panicked expression. 

“What happened? Are you okay, Dromeda? Is Hermione? Merlin, I should have reacted quicker; I could have helped! Where’s Lestrange? How did we-“

“One question at a time please, Mr. Tonks,” Madam Pomfrey sighed, “You’re not in any rush.”

Andromeda giggled softly and moved to sit next to Ted, who reached for her hand instantly. Andromeda glanced at their intertwined fingers with a soft smile for a second, before meeting Ted’s eyes. 

“I’m okay. Rodolphus used the Cruciatus on Hermione, but she’ll be okay too,” she said reassuringly, “And it’s not your fault; Rodolphus was just too quick.” 

“The Cruciatus?” Ted repeated, eyes wide, “Isn’t that illegal?” 

“It is,” McGonagall confirmed, “Mr. Lestrange will be punished severely for its use; I will see to that personally.” 

“Will he be expelled?” Andromeda asked, a hint of hopefulness in her tone. 

“With the pull that Mr. Lestrange’s father has in the Ministry, I don’t think that’s a likely outcome,” McGonagall sighed, then muttered, “Despite how much any of us wants that.” 

“Surely the Ministry would agree that the use of an Unforgivable Curse should be punished though, wouldn’t they?” Ted furrowed his brow.

“Unfortunately not,” McGonagall said, shaking her head, “Not with the amount of money I suspect Mr. Lestrange’s father will be paying them in order to keep this quiet.” 

“But that’s- that’s insane!” 

“Can’t Professor Dumbledore do anything? He is the Headmaster, after all,” Andromeda pointed out.

“I’m afraid once the Ministry has made a decision, that decision is final. Even Professor Dumbledore can’t overrule the Ministry.” 

“So, he just gets away with it?” 

“He will lose a great number of house points and serve detention, but that’s all we can do. On that note, I should take the information you have given me to Professor Dumbledore. I’m sure Mr. Lestrange has been spinning the tale in an entirely different way, and we could really benefit from the truth in this situation. Thank you, Miss Black.” 

“Thank you, Professor.” 

With the conversation about his brother over, Madam Pomfrey woke Rabastan up. He didn’t say a word to anyone other than Madam Pomfrey, merely asking if he could leave, and then did. 

“You’re free to go too, Mr. Tonks, if you feel you can. I see no reason to keep you here now that you are awake and functioning well.” 

“Er- Well, could I stay? Just to make sure Hermione’s alright?” Ted asked. Andromeda looked at Madam Pomfrey, tilting her head in question too. 

The older witch sighed, but reluctantly allowed them to sit by Hermione’s bedside. It was a few hours before she woke up, and when she did, she tried to jump up like Ted had done, but cried out in pain when she moved too quickly.

“For Merlin’s sake, don’t hurt yourself,” Madam Pomfrey scolded. 

“Wh-Where…? Andy, Ted, you’re here? You’re okay?” Hermione croaked, her voice hoarse from screaming. 

“We’re fine, Hermione,” Andromeda assured.

“He- He tried to Crucio you!” Hermione gasped.

“He didn’t; thanks to you. Although I have to say, for someone so smart, it was insanely stupid to throw yourself in front of an Unforgivable like that,” Andromeda chuckled. 

“I’d do it again,” Hermione said sincerely. “Where’s Lestrange?” 

“Still with Dumbledore, I think,” Andromeda shrugged, “McGonagall and Slughorn are there too. We haven’t heard anything since we arrived, so I assume they’re still trying to determine a suitable punishment.” 

“More importantly,” Ted interjected, “How do you feel?”

“Like I just got hit by the Knight Bus,” Hermione chuckled. 

Without so much as a word, Madam Pomfrey was by her side, holding out a pain relief potion. Hermione accepted it gratefully and threw her head back, downing the contents of the vial in one go, feeling the effects almost instantly. 

“What time is it?” she asked, and her stomach growled loudly, asking her next question for her. 

“Right around dinner time. Perfect timing,” Andromeda answered, casting a spell to check. 

Hermione looked at Madam Pomfrey hopefully, and the woman narrowed her eyebrows. 

“You really should be resting,” she said.

“Apart from the short walk to the Great Hall, I’ll be sitting down the whole time,” Hermione pointed out.

“That’s not what I meant,” Madam Pomfrey sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Please? I feel fine, honestly.” 

“Not even two minutes ago you were in extreme pain!” 

“I wouldn’t exactly call it extreme…” Hermione said, “And you gave me a potion for that.” 

“A potion only numbs the pain for so long. If you hurt yourself, you won’t even realise until the potion has worn off, and by then the pain will be worse than it was before.” 

“I’ll be careful, I swear. I’ll have Andy and Ted with me. And what could possibly happen to me in the Great Hall; surrounded by students and teachers?” 

“You suffered through a Cruciatus Curse!” Madam Pomfrey reminded, “Most people would be begging to stay in bed after that.” 

“It’s nothing I haven’t gone through before,” Hermione blurted out. 

Madam Pomfrey had no response for that. She stared at Hermione in shock, as did Andromeda and Ted. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Someone’s used the Cruciatus on you before?” 

“Who in Merlin’s name would do that?”

A shiver ran down Hermione’s spine at the memory of Malfoy Manor, but she shook the thoughts away quickly. 

“Never mind,” she sighed, “Can I please go to the Great Hall?” 

“Fine, fine.” Madam Pomfrey held her hands up in surrender. “If you insist. But you’re to return here immediately afterwards so I can check on you before bed. Understood?”

“Understood. Thank you, Madam Pomfrey.”

Andromeda and Ted walked Hermione to the Great Hall slowly, making sure that she wouldn’t hurt herself accidentally, for fear that Madam Pomfrey would hex them if they allowed anything to happen to her. They split up at the entrance; Ted taking his place at the Ravenclaw table, while Hermione and Andromeda sat with the Slytherins. 

“Where have you been all day?” Narcissa asked, “People are saying that Rodolphus used the Cruciatus Curse on you. That’s not true, is it?”

“It is,” Hermione confirmed.

“Really? Are- Are you okay?”

Hermione smiled at the younger witch’s concern; a part of her in disbelief that Narcissa could actually show that towards her. “Yes, thank you. Although it’s a miracle Madam Pomfrey actually let me out of her sight.” 

Hermione turned her head towards the door, which had just opened to reveal Rodolphus, strolling towards the Slytherin table without a care in the world. He didn’t even look at Hermione as he passed by, and sat down a few seats away from them. No sooner than he did, however, a loud shout cut through the chatter and silenced the whole room. 

_“You!”_

All eyes turned to watch as Bellatrix stormed through the doors, thundering towards the table. Hermione braced herself, expecting the witch’s anger to be directed at her, but for once it wasn’t. She watched as Bellatrix gripped Rodolphus by the collar of his shirt and yanked him out of his seat. 

“You better listen to me _very carefully_ , Lestrange,” she hissed, “Nobody — I mean, _nobody_ — uses an Unforgivable Curse on _my sister!_ The next time you so much as _look_ at her sideways, _you’ll_ be the one in the Hospital Wing; and it will take a miracle for you to get out. Do you hear me? I should kill you right here for even _attempting_ something like that.” 

She threw him to the ground, pressing her foot into his chest. “You better stay the _fuck_ away from my family, or I’ll serve you up on a silver platter to a werewolf. Are we clear?” 

He nodded his head vigorously and she released him. He scrambled to his feet and smoothed out his shirt, returning to his seat as though nothing had happened, but anyone in a close enough proximity could see the nerves on his face. 

“And you.” Bellatrix turned to Hermione then, her voice significantly calmer. “I know you jumped in front of Andy and took that curse for her, so I’ll forget that it was you that got her into that situation in the first place. However, if you _ever_ put her in harm’s way again, I’ll hex you so badly you won’t even remember your own name. Understood?”

“Understood.” 

Bellatrix gave a short nod of approval and sat down next to Narcissa, tucking into her food as everyone else in the Great Hall stayed paralysed in shock by what they had just witnessed. Even the teachers made no move to discipline Bellatrix, and Hermione wondered if it was because they were too tired from dealing with Rodolphus all day, or if it was because they wanted to see him getting punished for what he had done. 

The thing that shook Hermione the most, however, was when she returned to the common room that night and was met with, not disapproving nor disgusted stares, but nods of approval, and pats on the back. 

Andromeda explained to her later that it was because any true Slytherin would go to extreme lengths for those they cared about; sometimes even more than other houses would, even if it meant putting themselves at risk.

So, in taking that curse for Andromeda, Hermione had inadvertently earned her place in Slytherin house at last.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione glanced up as she saw someone sit across from her, and did a double take when she realised who it was. Narcissa looked back at Hermione, seeming like she was contemplating something. 

“Hi,” Hermione began, “Er… Is everything okay?” 

This was the first time that Narcissa had come anywhere near Hermione without Andromeda being there. This was definitely new. Narcissa sighed softly, her cold mask slipping for a moment as her eyes lowered to the table. 

“I’m… conflicted,” she admitted quietly. 

Hermione closed over her book, giving Narcissa her full attention. Surely if the younger witch was coming to her about something, instead of her sisters, it must be troubling her. 

“What’s on your mind?” 

She could practically see Narcissa building a wall around herself at the question; her calm expression returning. Clearly she had learned the ‘Ice Queen’ act at a young age, then. 

“Mud— muggleborns.”

“Ah.” Now it made sense. “You, er… want to talk to me about my blood status?” 

“I’m not entirely sure how I’m supposed to feel about… you, I suppose. Well, your blood status. Though, I suppose they’re the same thing, aren’t they?” 

“I don’t see why people should be defined by their blood status. Personality and status are two entirely different things.” Hermione shrugged. 

“Right.” Narcissa’s brow furrowed slightly, as though she didn’t quite see the difference. “Well, Andy and Bella both have wildly different opinions of you — as you know.”

“Right,” Hermione echoed.

“I seem to be somewhat caught in the middle,” Narcissa sighed, “Bella always insists that I follow our family’s beliefs, while Andy tries to convince me of the opposite. In all honesty, I’m not sure who I’m supposed to believe anymore.” 

Hermione’s mind was reeling. She couldn’t believe the words she was hearing from the blonde witch’s mouth. Narcissa was beginning to drift from her family’s beliefs already? Without any prompting from Hermione’s end? That was certainly an unexpected turn of events. 

A small part of Hermione’s brain was telling her to take the opportunity to sway Narcissa’s beliefs. It would probably be easy enough; she was already on the line, all it would take was just a slight push…

However, the logical part of her brain won out. She wouldn’t sit here and allow herself to manipulate the younger witch; she couldn’t do that to her. No, this had to be her own choice; her own free will. She had been manipulated by her father into believing in pureblood supremacy already, she should be given the opportunity to make her own decision now. 

“I— I’m not sure I can help you there, really,” Hermione frowned, “For one thing, I’m biased, seeing as I am a muggleborn. Second, it’s… it’s your opinion; your beliefs. I can’t influence you on it. On that note, however, you shouldn’t let anyone else influence you either. No matter who they are, or what relationship you have with them. In the end, what you stand for is your choice, not anyone else’s.” 

“I don’t think it’s that simple. My family is… complicated. I don’t know what Andy had told you—“

“She hasn’t told me anything.” 

Narcissa relaxed slightly at that, although she seemed to read between the lines. Andromeda hadn’t told Hermione anything; but she still had some idea of what their home life was like. 

“It doesn’t have to be overly complicated, either,” Hermione continued, “Take Andy, for example. She’s made her choice, but — this is only an assumption, by the way, so correct me if I’m wrong — you and Bellatrix are the only ones who know that, right? She’s managed to keep it hidden from the rest of your family?” 

“That’s true,” Narcissa confirmed. 

“Right, so, if she can do it, why can’t you?” Hermione shrugged, “It seems to me that you’ve already made your decision. I doubt we would be having this conversation if you hadn’t. So, what is it you want to hear? Encouragement? Just a listening ear?” 

“I suppose you have a point,” Narcissa admitted, “I think I just needed a voice of reason; someone to confirm what I already know, which you have done.”

“Happy to help,” Hermione smiled, “Can I ask you something, though?” 

Narcissa nodded. 

“What made you change your mind?” Hermione asked, “I mean, I know Andy has been trying to do so for a while, but what was the turning point?” 

Narcissa was quiet for a few moments, and Hermione wasn’t sure she was going to answer at all. Just as she was about to retract the question, Narcissa spoke up. 

“When I heard you had taken that curse for Andy,” she said quietly. “Until then, I was unsure about you. You seemed quite pleasant, but there was always the issue of blood status. After, though, I realised that none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was that you protected Andy. I can’t dislike anyone who does that, regardless of their blood status.”

Hermione took a slow breath, soaking in her words. Words she would never in a million years imagine hearing from Narcissa Black. 

“Are you sure you’re only thirteen?” she chuckled eventually.

“Quite sure, yes.” Narcissa arched an eyebrow, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips. 

“Sometimes when I hear you speak it’s hard to believe that. You sound far older than what you are,” Hermione said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I mean that as a good thing, by the way,” she added quickly, unsure of how Narcissa would take it.

“Thank you,” Narcissa replied, looking genuinely happy at the compliment. 

“Of course.”

They heard footsteps approaching their table and both of them looked up to see Andromeda walking towards them, looking confused. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” she asked, eyeing the two witches cautiously. 

Hermione glanced at Narcissa, whose mask had gone back up, and returned to Andromeda with a smile. She guessed that Narcissa wasn’t quite ready to reveal anything just yet, so she covered for her. 

“Nothing, we were just discussing Transfiguration spells,” she shrugged. 

“Okay…” Andromeda drawled, seeming unconvinced. She let it go, though, not wanting to push. 

“Oh, Professor Dumbledore asked me to tell you that he wants to see you in his office,” she said, turning to Hermione. 

“Now?” Hermione furrowed her brow. Andromeda nodded. 

“Oh, alright. I’ll see you later, then?” 

“Of course.”

“Bye, Hermione,” Narcissa said, causing Andromeda’s brow to furrow too. 

Hermione chuckled and lifted her hand in a quick wave as she turned away from them. She walked to Dumbledore’s office quickly and found him standing by a golden cage, stroking a phoenix. He heard Hermione enter and turned his head with a smile. 

“Good morning, Miss Granger,” he greeted.

“Good morning, Professor,” Hermione replied. 

Dumbledore caught her eyes wandering to the bird and chuckled.

“His name is Fawkes,” he told her, “Though, I suppose you must know that already?”

“I do,” Hermione confirmed, “He saved my best friend’s life once. He’s also the reason that the Order got its name — although, I suppose, not anymore.” 

“Or, perhaps it never really was,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling in that way that suggested he knew more than anyone else — which, most of the time, he did. 

“Er— I’m not sure I follow?” 

“Have you ever considered the possibility that this isn’t the first time you have been here?” 

“Only once, for a brief moment — that time I accidentally revealed the name of the Order. Are you saying that this isn’t the first time I’ve time travelled?” 

“It is the first time _you_ have time travelled. However, perhaps this has happened before, to another version of you, in another timeline. Perhaps the future you know is the one that came about as a result of your time here.”

“But how could— That would mean everything would only happen because I knew about it, but i couldn’t have known about it if it didn’t happen in the first place— It… It creates a paradox.” 

“Precisely,” Dumbledore hummed, his attention still on Fawkes. 

_Precisely? What does that even—_

Hermione shook her head in confusion. “Plus, in the timeline I came from, everything still needed to be changed. If everything was different, I wouldn’t have had to time travel in the first place— Hang on; can’t the same be said for what I’m currently doing? If I fix everything, then we’ll have won, and I wouldn’t have to time travel. However, if I never time travel, I wouldn’t have changed anything, and we would have lost— It’s another paradox!”

“We can discuss this another time,” Dumbeldore said, waving his hand dismissively, “That’s not the reason I called you here.”

_Another— How can he just drop a bomb like that and just forget about it?_

Hermione had to refrain from rolling her eyes. Typical Dumbledore, really. 

“I wanted to discuss the incident that occurred yesterday,” he continued.

“I’m sorry, Professor, I know I shouldn’t have been duelling, but—“

“Oh, no, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore cut in, “You’ve misunderstood me. You aren’t in trouble.” 

“I— I’m not?” 

“Not at all.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She had begun to imagine herself in a detention with Rodolphus, and decided she would rather spend a night in the Forbidden Forest with a chimera. 

“Then… what did you want to talk about?” she asked. 

“I merely wished to ask how you are doing? A Cruciatus Curse is not something to be taken lightly.” 

“Believe me, I’ve had my fair share of those,” Hermione sighed, “I’m alright, really. Thank you.” 

“And how are you getting on with Miss Black?” 

“Er— Well, she did react well to me jumping in front of Andy, of course. I suppose that’s a step in the right direction,” Hermione shrugged, “I wanted to ask, actually; is there some sort of plan for this? Am I supposed to tell her that I’m from the future and that she can’t become a Death Eater, or—“

“No, I think it would be best to leave that detail out,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head gently. 

“Why? What do you want me to do instead?” 

“You could become her friend,” Dumbledore suggested, “If she trusts you, she might tell you her plans — or Voldemort’s.”

Hermione furrowed her brow and shifted on her feet, uncomfortable at the change in conversation. She had only just had a conversation with herself about not wanting to manipulate Narcissa, yet here was Dumbledore telling her to do exactly that to Bellatrix? 

“You don’t look happy with the idea,” he noted when Hermione didn’t respond, “I know that Miss Black is a… complicated character, but if the fate of our world rests on this, don’t you think it’s worth being slightly uncomfortable with a friendship?” 

“It’s not about her— Not entirely, at least. If it was just about my opinion of her, of course I would suck it up and do what was necessary.”

“Then, what’s the problem?” Dumbledore asked, sitting behind his desk and gesturing to the chair across from him. 

Hermione glanced at it, but chose to stand, wanting to keep the higher ground. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little manipulative?” she said in an accusatory tone, “I don’t want to break someone’s trust like that; no matter who they are! If I’m to develop a friendship with her, I want it to be real. If it happens, it happens; if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I’m already friends with Andy, and Narcissa seems to be coming around too — without any influence from me, mind you. I think that, even just my being in this timeline is changing things. Perhaps it’s only a matter of time before things with Bellatrix change. I didn’t put myself in front of that curse specifically to gain her approval, but it seems to have worked out that way, regardless.” 

“Miss Granger,” Dumbledore sighed, looking exasperated, “When you first arrived here, you wanted nothing to do with Miss Black. Why is it that you seem so intent on defending her now?” 

“Because she should at least have a choice!” Hermione cried, “What good is it if we force her to choose our side? How do you know that she isn’t already being forced onto the other side; that she might _choose_ to join us, if we let her?” 

“How do you know that she would?” Dumbledore countered, “If you do nothing, you might end up right back where you started.” 

“Or, we could end up with a formidable ally, who could help us win the war. If we force her hand on this, she might not be so willing to help— or, worse, she could gather information from the Order, and hand it over to Voldemort.” 

“As I said to you on your first day, I believe fate has sent you here with a job to do,” Dumbledore said calmly, “You _need_ to convince Miss Black to join us, by whatever means necessary. Otherwise, who’s to say what the consequences may be?” 

“I know the consequences; I’ve seen them!” Hermione’s voice was raised, and she threw her hands in the air in frustration. “Fate didn’t send me here to bloody manipulate and exploit a seventeen year old. For all we know, I’m supposed to just _be_ here, not doing anything, so she can see for herself that muggleborns aren’t terrible. If a muggleborn tries to use her the way you’re suggesting, then she’ll definitely hold a grudge. Why can’t you see the logic in this?” 

Dumbledore stayed silent, eyeing Hermione with a raised eyebrow. After a few moments, her anger died down and her eyes widened with the realisation that she had just yelled at the Headmaster. 

“Oh, Merlin,” she groaned, “Professor, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have— I just got carried away—“

“Perhaps we should continue this discussion another time.”

_> There he goes again, _

Hermione thought, groaning internally,

Just cutting the conversation short when he doesn’t want to admit that he’s wrong. It’s bloody infuriating.

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” Hermione asked, unable to stop herself, “We need a solid plan, not these theories and unlikely possibilities.” 

“I am merely trying to help you, Miss Granger.”

“I know, and believe me, I appreciate it,” Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair, “But, it’s just… I want to— I _have_ to do this right. I can’t risk messing everything up again, and I think forcing Bellatrix onto our side would be a mistake.” 

“If that’s what you believe is best,” Dumbledore relented.

Hermione frowned. Was he being intentionally condescending? His tone made him sound like he was talking to a child who wanted to stay up past their bedtime. She sighed and shook that thought away. Regardless of what he thought of it; she was going to go with her gut. 

“It is.” 

“Then, do what you must.” 

Hermione crossed her arms and sighed softly. How did the rest of the Order get anything done with him breathing down their necks? Honestly, it was a miracle. 

“I need you to trust me on this,” she pleaded, “We need to be careful here. If we make one wrong move, then we’ll have condemned the entire wizarding world _thirty years_ from now. Don’t you see that? I couldn’t live with that weight on my shoulders.” 

“I do see that, Miss Granger, which is why I’m trying to help you,” Dumbledore sighed. 

“Then help me by letting me do what I think is right. I know what happens in the future, so I know what needs to change. I just need your support, that’s all.” 

“And you have it, but you must understand things from my point of view. How can I trust a teenager to make life or death decisions?”

Oh, the irony. Hermione nearly laughed out loud. 

“You know, I fought the most dangerous dark wizard of all time, and won,” Dumbledore continued, “I have enough experience in this area to judge our options correctly.” 

“I know you don’t know me, Professor, but I’m not some incompetent teenager who’s going to screw this up. I’m the brightest witch of my age. I’ve been fighting Voldemort and his followers since I was eleven years old. Right now, he’s only at the beginning of his rise to power — you have no idea what he becomes. He is the most powerful dark wizard of all time, not Grindelwald — though, fair enough, he is a close second. You may have more experience in fighting the dark arts, but I have more experience with Voldemort.” 

“You’re forgetting that Voldemort, before he used that name, was a student here. I know him quite well, too,” Dumbledore hummed, looking at Hermione over the tops of his half-moon glasses, in that way he always did when he was talking down to someone. Hermione could have rolled her eyes; how had she not noticed any of this before? 

“You knew Tom Riddle,” Hermione corrected, “An orphaned child who was desperate for a place in which he could fit in, and be who he was. But Tom Riddle graduated over twenty years ago, and he stopped using that name as soon as he did — before, even. Voldemort is not the same person you knew back then, not even close.” 

Dumbledore looked like he was lost in thought for a moment. He stroked his beard lightly while keeping his eyes trained on his desk.

“When he went to school here, did you ever imagine that he could become who he is now?” Hermiona asked after a few minutes. 

“No, I didn’t,” Dumbledore answered, but something about his tone suggested to Hermione that it wasn’t entirely truthful. 

“There were no signs? Nothing that could have indicated his plans?” she pressed. 

“Tom was a complicated child,” the wizard said carefully.

‘Complicated’ seemed to be a common word in the Headmaster’s vocabulary when it came to describing students with an inclination towards the Dark Arts. 

“How is that?” Hermione asked. 

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, eyeing her skeptically. 

“I find it hard to imagine that you are simply curious, Miss Granger,” he commented, “Is there a particular reason you have for wanting to know about Voldemort’s childhood? I would have assumed you knew about it already.”

Hermione sighed. Nothing could get past Dumbledore. She should have known he would see right through her. Either way, she wasn’t about to back down. 

“It’s just… interesting to think about,” she said slowly, contemplating her next words, “Tom Riddle is certainly not the only student you have had here who has shown an interest in the Dark Arts. In fact, there are at least three this year that I can name off the top of my head. I imagine you know that. You can’t have missed the signs; not with Riddle, nor Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan. Why has it taken my arrival for you to want to help one of them?” 

Not that she would be particularly fond of the idea of trying to get close to the Lestrange boys, of course. Dumbledore, however, should have wanted to steer any students towards the light, shouldn’t he? 

“Some things aren’t quite as simple as you believe them to be,” he stated, “Had I been able to, I would have done everything in my power to help any of those students. Including Tom.” 

“You could have, though,” Hermione pointed out, “There was nothing stopping you in Riddle’s case; no parents influencing him, no family ideals to live up to. It could have been easy to show him another path to take, had you just offered him support. Why didn’t you?” 

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were accusing me of something,” Dumbeldore noted, his voice uncharacteristically dangerous, “That isn’t the case, is it, Miss Granger?” 

“Of course not, Professor,” Hermione denied, smiling innocently, “I’m simply… curious.” 

“Of course,” Dumbledore hummed, his eyebrows drawn together as he looked at the young witch, uncertain of her intentions. 

Hermione tilted her head, trying to evaluate Dumbledore. Their conversation had led her to see him in a totally different light, and it wasn’t exactly a good one. During her years at Hogwarts, in the lead up to and during the war, she had trusted him completely — everyone had. Now, however, she was beginning to question that. 

Had they all foolishly placed their blind faith in the man, without anyone ever truly knowing his real intentions? It was beginning to seem like a likely possibility. And, what were his real intentions? If not just to save the wizarding world, what other motive could there be? 

On top of that; how could nobody in the Order have realised this before? Surely someone had to have seen this side of him at some point. Or had they just skipped over it, deciding he was too valuable to be put under any detailed investigation? Did he have ties that could make any such investigation disappear? Probably. 

Hermione hadn’t realised how long she had been thinking for, until Dumbledore stood from his chair. 

“I do believe we have strayed quite enough from the more important matters,” he said, “And I have taken up enough of your morning. We shall meet again at a later date to discuss the earlier topics.” 

Hermione nodded, accepting her clear dismissal, and left his office quickly, her mind reeling with questions and theories. She had once thought of him to be the greatest man on earth, but now she wasn’t so sure. 

Nothing was certain anymore, bar one thing she knew for definite; Dumbledore was not the man she thought he was. She wasn’t entirely sure she could trust him anymore. Not fully, at least. 

Perhaps she would have to pick up a few Slytherin traits, and keep her cards close to her chest instead of parading them around like a Gryffindor. Which meant she would have to refrain from calling Dumbledore out whenever she saw fit. 

Merlin, this was getting more and more complicated by the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join the Bellamione Cult discord!  
> https://discord.gg/pcfMU4F


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is unedited, so excuse any mistakes there might be lol

Hermione knocked on the door and stepped back, fidgeting with her fingers nervously. She didn’t know how good of an idea this would be, but it was the only thing she could come up with. The door swung open a moment later, and McGonagall looked at Hermione in surprise. 

“Miss Granger, good afternoon. Is everything alright? You look quite anxious.”

“I…” Hermione hesitated, looking from side to side along the hallway. 

Perhaps it was a bad idea. She should go. 

“Why don’t you come in,” McGonagall suggested, stepping aside, “We can talk in private.” 

Hermione looked at the professor, silently weighing her up in her mind. Surely she could trust her? It was McGonagall, after all. 

Then again, she had thought she could trust Dumbledore, and now… now she wasn’t so sure. What if this backfired on her? Surely it wouldn’t be easy to go behind his back like this. 

“Miss Granger?” McGonagall prompted. 

Hermione took a breath and entered the office. She stood in the middle of the room, waiting for McGonagall to close the door and sit at her desk. She gestured to the chair across from her, which Hermione took, staring at the table rather than looking at McGonagall. 

“I take it something is bothering you,” the professor began, “Something you couldn’t take to your Head of House?” 

Hermione glanced at her robes, seeing the green crest, and her face fell. She had forgotten about that for a moment. 

“I— Not necessarily,” she said quietly, “I suppose I could—“

“I didn’t mean to suggest that you couldn’t talk to me,” McGonagall interjected, “If I’m who you feel more comfortable with, then there’s no problem with that. I was merely wondering if it’s something to do with Slytherin house?” 

“N-No, it’s not that.” 

“Then, what’s on your mind?” 

Hermione sighed and finally met McGonagall’s eyes. 

“Can you promise me something first?” she asked, “I just… I need this to stay between us. It’s— it’s important that nobody knows about this.” 

McGonagall’s brow furrowed and she seemed apprehensive for a moment. Hermione noticed this, and rushed to clarify. 

“I— I realise how that sounds, now that I hear it out loud. It’s nothing bad, I swear. But there’s certain people… well, one person, really, that can’t find out why I’m here. Or that I was even here in the first place.” 

“I’m beginning to worry. What is this about? You aren’t in danger, are you?” McGonagall asked, looking quite panicked. 

“No, no, nothing like that.” Hermione shut her eyes tight and groaned quietly, trying to get her thoughts straight. Somehow, between Dumbledore’s office and McGonagall’s, her mind had run off its tracks. 

“Please, Professor,” she begged, “I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone. Not a single soul. No matter who it is.” 

“Okay. I promise.” 

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, finally allowing herself to relax. 

“To be quite honest, I’m not even sure if you will be able to help me,” she admitted, “I didn’t really consider it, you were just the first person I thought to ask—“

“What is it, Miss Granger?” McGonagall asked, not unkindly. 

“I— I need to learn Occlumency. As soon as possible.” 

“May I ask why? If it’s this urgent, I’m concerned that there is a danger you aren’t telling me about.” 

“It’s not exactly a danger, just… there’s somebody I’ve realised I can’t trust entirely. So, I need to be able to hide my thoughts.” 

McGonagall eyed Hermione carefully, considering her request. The longer she stayed silent, the more Hermione began to worry that she had made a mistake. 

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” she blurted out, “I— Forget I asked, it’s okay. I’ll just—“

She made a move to get out of the chair, but a hand on hers stopped her. McGonagall gave a small, reassuring smile and gestured her free hand back to the chair. 

“I never said I wouldn’t teach you. It’s just my duty as a professor to make sure my students are safe.” 

“S-so, you will teach me?” 

“I will.” 

“Oh, Professor… you have no idea— thank you so much. Er— when do we start?” 

“I have some free time now, if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“Well, you did say you need to learn as soon as possible.” 

“Right, I did.” 

“Then, shall we begin?” 

McGonagall stood from her chair and rounded the table until she was next to Hermione, and motioned for her to face her.

“Let’s say you are trying to keep a specific memory from being found. There are several ways to do so, all of which we can attempt until you decide which one works best for you. The first method is to hide your memory entirely; bury it deep within your mind where it cannot be found, and try to keep your head completely empty. As you practice Occlumency and get better at it, you can create a sort of sanctuary for your memories, a place to store them in such a way that only you can navigate — a vault, of sorts. Second, you can create a fake memory, to trick your opponent into thinking they have found what they’re looking for. Finally, it is possible to attack your opponent until they withdraw from your mind. This is done by turning your mind into as much of an unwelcoming place as you possibly can. A battleground, essentially, to drive them out.” 

Hermione nodded slowly, taking in the information carefully. McGonagall gave her a few moments to do so, before she raised her wand. 

“When you are ready, I will try to enter your mind—“

Hermione froze, her eyes going wide. 

“Y-you’re going to… see my memories? All my thoughts?” 

“I apologise, Miss Granger, but this is the only way to learn Occlumency. If there is something you don’t want me to see—“

“It’s just…” Hermione sighed quietly. 

She could just drop the request, and figure out another way to hide her thoughts from Dumbledore… of course, that probably wasn’t possible. 

Her other option was to tell McGonagall everything, which under normal circumstances, she would have no problem with. However, nearly everyone she had met in this timeline was a completely different person to those she knew in her own timeline. How could she be sure she could trust McGonagall now? Is it possible that McGonagall would see everything in her mind, and tell Dumbledore that Hermione was going behind his back because she didn’t trust him? 

She buried her head in her hands and sighed loudly. She didn’t know who to trust anymore, or how to decide who was trustworthy. A hand came to rest on her shoulder, causing her to look up at her professor.

“If we come across something you don’t want me to see, I’ll move on without paying attention to it,” she assured, “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“I— Partly, but isn’t the whole point of this to learn how to fight against people trying to see things I don’t want them to? If you stop any time I want you to, it sort of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose so.” 

“There’s just going to be a lot of things you see that are hard to explain,” Hermione sighed, “It’s not as if we can skip over them, though, because they make up the majority of my memories.”

“Would you like to explain any of them beforehand?” 

“No, I— I think it’s best if you see for yourself, first. It’ll be easier to believe, that way.” 

McGonagall furrowed her brow in confusion, but nodded her agreement regardless. She raised her wand again, and checked if Hermione was ready.

“Now, bear in mind that I am by no means the most skilled Legilimens you will come across. It’s not a spell I have used very often, so it may be easy to keep me at bay. If you come across somebody more skilled, it will be far more difficult to fight against them.”

Hermione nodded her understanding, and McGonagall cast the spell. 

Hermione felt her presence in her mind immediately, and screwed her face up in concentration. She felt McGonagall searching her brain, and memories began to come to the surface. 

_Hermione sat on the small stool in front of the Great Hall, while McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on her head. The debate began; the Hat insisted on placing Hermione in Slytherin, while Hermione pleaded for Gryffindor. Eventually, it raised its voice to be heard by everyone, and called out, “Slyther—“_

_“—ffindor!”_

The scene changed somewhat, as the current memory merged with another, similar one. Hermione’s first Sorting Ceremony, in 1992. 

_A younger Hermione grinned excitedly as she hopped off the stool and made her way to the Gryffindor table. She sat next to Percy, with Fred and George across from her._

Hermione’s heart ached at the sight of them. She could feel McGonagall’s confusion echoing in her mind at the second memory. As if trying to confirm a hunch, she began to flick through more of Hermione’s school memories. 

_Hermione took a deep breath before entering the Transfiguration classroom on her first day. McGonagall smiled at her and gestured to an empty table, where Hermione took her seat. Molly and Arthur took their seats soon after, and struck up a conversation with Hermione._

The memory seemed to swirl around her mind as it changed again.

_She was sitting next to Harry and Ron in the same classroom, and an older McGonagall stood at the front of the room, showing them a simple Transfiguration spell._

_Next was a Charms class in first year. Flitwick demonstrated Wingardium Leviosa from where he stood on his stack of books. Hermione pointed her wand at the feather on her desk and cast the spell, watching in awe as it began to float in the air._

Memories flew by quicker and quicker, changing between those from 1968 and those from the 1990’s. A Potions class with Slughorn became one with Snape. Care of Magical Creatures with Kettleburn, then with Hagrid. Various Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers made an appearance before McGonagall retreated from Hermione’s mind, taking a step backwards as if she was unsteady on her feet. 

She stayed silent for a moment, watching Hermione carefully as she seemed to mull over what she had just seen. 

“You’re… from the future?” she said eventually. 

“Yes,” Hermione breathed, “I am.” 

“When… How far…?” 

“I was born in 1979. The memories you saw were from 1992 onwards.” 

“Merlin.” McGonagall shook her head slowly in disbelief. “How is that possible?” 

“I used a broken Time Turner. It sent me back thirty years instead of three hours.” 

“So that’s why your name appeared quite suddenly on the attendance list,” McGonagall hummed, “I thought it was just that you decided to transfer quite late. Who else knows about this?”

“Just Professor Dumbledore.”

McGonagall nodded slowly, and a small smile grew on her face. Hermione tilted her head in question. 

“You were a Gryffindor in your timeline?” 

Hermione smiled back and nodded.

“It’s a pity you aren’t one anymore, I would have liked for you to be in my house. Though, I suppose you will be eventually, judging by your memories,” McGonagall chuckled, “It’s odd that your house changed between timelines, though.”

Hermione shrugged. “I think that’s just because the Sorting Hat saw what Dumbledore asked me to do while I’m stuck here, and thought it would be helping me by putting me into Slytherin.”

McGonagall hummed, not quite in agreement. “Something tells me that’s not the only reason the Hat chose Slytherin for you. You do have a number of Gryffindor traits, yes, but I can see Slytherin in you too. Even if your sorting was just based on your goals, it’s still a good choice for you.” 

Hermione couldn’t tell if that was meant to be a compliment or not. Most Gryffindors seemed to hate Slytherin, so it could very well be an insult. Though, McGonagall wouldn’t insult a student to their face… right? 

McGonagall seemed to sense Hermione’s confusion and clarified. “I mean that as a good thing. While many people judge Slytherin for the dark witches and wizards it produces, they also ignore the darkness that comes from the other houses. Every house has its faults, not just yours. I don’t believe that all Slytherins are inherently evil, in fact, some of my favourite students are in Slytherin.” 

“Really?” Hermione let out a sigh of relief. At least she wasn’t automatically in McGonagall’s bad books for the house she was in. 

“Of course. I know you’ve had your trouble with her since you arrived, but Bellatrix Black is an extraordinary witch, as are her sisters. She’s considered to be the brightest witch of her age. Nobody has even come close to her results in most of her classes — that is, until you came along. I’m sure if you could manage to get past your differences, you could get along quite well. Regardless, I have no doubt that the both of you will go on to do great things when you graduate.” 

Hermione felt her cheeks heat up, both at the compliment and the implication that she was one of McGonagall’s favourite students, despite not being from this timeline. 

“Thank you.” 

“Ready to try again?” McGonagall asked, holding up her wand. Hermione nodded and prepared herself to fight against the intrusion this time. 

“Legilimens.”

_Hermione walked quickly to the Slytherin table, head hung to avoid the stares of her peers, and sat next to Andromeda, who smiled encouragingly at her. After dinner, they walked to the common room together, where insults began to fire around the room, all directed at Hermione. Andromeda’s hand wrapped gently around Hermione’s wrist, a small, comforting gesture._

_They were sitting in the Three Broomsticks with Ted, laughing and joking together while they sipped their Butterbeers. It was probably the most relaxed Hermione had felt in the two weeks she had been in this timeline._

Hermione smiled fondly at the memory, but her smile disappeared just as quickly when she realised what would come next. She furrowed her brow in concentration and tried to push McGonagall out of her mind. 

_She was standing outside with Andromeda, just after Ted ran back inside. Rodolphus arrived a second later, and began to taunt the two witches. The duel began; spells flying back and forth, gaining the attention of a few passers-by who stopped to watch. Rodolphus turned his wand on Andromeda, and his lips began to form the all too familiar spell._

_“Cru—“_

Hermione jumped as she returned to the present, back in McGonagall’s office. She blinked up at her professor in confusion. Did Hermione push her out? She didn’t think so, but she couldn’t be sure. 

“I apologise, I didn’t want to force you to relive that particular memory,” McGonagall explained.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me too much, really.” 

“It doesn’t?”

“Compared to some of my other experiences with the Cruciatus Curse, that one is nowhere near the worst one.” 

McGonagall frowned. “How many times— Never mind, it’s none of my business. Shall we give it another go?” 

Hermione nodded, and felt McGonagall enter her mind once more. 

_She was sitting in the library, and Narcissa had just sat down in front of her. The younger witch shifted in her seat when Hermione asked her what was on her mind, but told her anyway. They discussed her family’s beliefs for a few minutes, until Andromeda showed up and the conversation came to a halt._

_“Professor Dumbledore asked me to tell you that he wants to see you in his office.”_

There was no way Hermione could let McGonagall see the next part of that memory. She trusted the professor, but she couldn’t let her see this. Not yet, at least. She should at least pretend to trust Dumbledore until she had learned more about him. 

_Hermione walked through the castle in the direction of the Headmaster’s office. He was standing inside, next to Fawkes, when she got there._

Alright, if Hermione couldn’t force McGonagall out of her mind, she had to try something else. 

_Dumbledore moved to sit behind his desk, as he did every time Hermione was there._

Every time… Maybe if Hermione could focus on a different memory with the same image instead… 

_Dumbledore gestured to the chair across from him, waiting for Hermione to sit down before he said anything else._

Hermione screwed up her face in concentration. The last time she was in his office she stayed standing, but… 

_Hermione sat down and shook Dumbledore’s hand._

_“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, sir. Er— Why did you want to see me?”_

Her first day. It worked! Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. McGonagall withdrew from her mind, her brow furrowed. 

“You don’t trust Professor Dumbledore?” 

Hermione’s eyes widened. How did she— The memory changed, she shouldn’t know that.

“How—“

“I was inside your mind, Miss Granger, I heard your whole internal debate while you tried to change the memory — which, you did quite well, by the way. For a beginner, you’re catching on remarkably quickly.” 

Of course McGonagall heard that. Hermione sighed, mentally kicking herself for forgetting about that. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust him, it’s just…”

“You don’t have to explain. To be honest, I’m not sure I want to know. Not right now, at least. There’s already a lot of new information to process; I think it best to leave this particular conversation for another day, don’t you?” 

“Yes, absolutely, but—“

“I won’t tell him. I did make a promise, remember?”

Hermione relaxed back into her chair. “Thank you, Professor.” 

McGonagall nodded and raised her wand once again. 

_Hermione was standing outside Hagrid’s hut, watching Bellatrix, whose head was tilted back, looking at the stars. They ventured into the forest and split away from Hagrid, as instructed. Hermione struggled to keep up with Bellatrix in the dark of the forest, having to dodge branches at the last second to avoid getting hit._

_“Where are we going, anyway?”_

_“Wouldn’t you like to know?”_

_Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes at the other witch._

_“Just trying to make sure you’re not luring me out here to kill me.”_

_“Keep talking and I just might,” Bellatrix threatened, prodding Hermione’s arm with her wand, “The world would be better off with one less mudblood in it.”_

As Hermione watched the scene unfold before her, she noticed amusement dancing in Bellatrix’s eyes as she spoke, making her words seem a thousand times less threatening than they had the first time. Excluding the use of the slur, it almost sounded like friendly banter. 

Until it turned sour, of course. 

_Bellatrix was trying to taunt Hermione into another duel but Hermione wouldn’t have it. They argued back and forth for a while, until Bellatrix succeeded._

_“I’ll bet your so-called ‘friends’ are glad to be rid of you.”_

_Hermione turned her head away, trying to suppress the anger building in her chest._

_“Or, perhaps they missed you too much,” Bellatrix hummed, “Perhaps they were so heartbroken when you left, that they just dropped dead.”_

_Hermione jumped to her feet, raising her wand._

_“What’s wrong, Muddy? Have I hit a nerve?”_

_“Shut up. I told you I don’t want to talk about my friends.”_

Before Hermione could even think to stop it, the memory switched again.

_Death Eaters filled the courtyard, led by Voldemort, who wore a sadistic grin. Hagrid walked behind him, carrying a body in his arms._

_Harry’s body._

Hermione tried to push against McGonagall, harder than she did the first time. 

_“Harry Potter is dead!”_

The words echoed around her head, making a sharp pain build in her chest. 

_Neville limped forward, clutching the Sorting Hat in his hand. He made his speech, and moments later, a jet of green light shot from Voldemort’s wand, hitting him in the chest._

Hermione’ felt McGonagall starting to pull out of the memory. 

_Ron fell next to Hermione, as did Ginny. Luna, Molly, Fred, Dean, Seamus, George— the list went on and on._

Finally, the memory stopped, and Hermione buried her head in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees, as she breathed heavily. McGonagall rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. When Hermione looked up at her, she looked pale, and her eyes were wide at the scene she had just witnessed. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m not trying to use your bad memories for this, but it seems that your subconscious is projecting them.”

“Why?” 

“The more you don’t want me to see something, the more you think about it, and the more it comes to the front of your mind,” McGonagall explained, “It’s not easy to push something from your mind entirely. It will take a lot of practice.” 

“Right,” Hermione sighed. 

“I think that’s enough for today. You probably don’t want to continue after that, and I wouldn’t blame you.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” 

“Miss Granger, you don’t have to push yourself. We can continue another day.”

“Please. Just once more?” Hermione had to admit, she was tired from the strain of trying to fight against McGonagall, but she didn’t know how long she had to learn, so she needed to spend every second she could doing this. 

McGonagall sighed, but relented. 

_Hermione and Bellatrix were in the middle of their duel on the Quidditch Pitch. Andromeda and Ted watched on anxiously, and unbeknownst to them, Rita Skeeter watched from behind one of the stands—_

_They were back in the library, right before the duel._

_“The mudblood doesn’t know what she’s talking about, Andy. She shouldn’t be sticking her nose in places it doesn’t belong.”_

_“She has a name, you know.”_

_“As if a filthy, muddy name like hers is worth even speaking.” Bellatrix shuddered in disgust._

_Hermione just sighed and rolled her eyes in annoyance—_

_She was on the Hogwarts Express with Andromeda and Narcissa. The door slid open, and Bellatrix strolled in, sitting next to Hermione._

_“Did either of you even think to ask your dear, new friend here what her blood status is?” Bellatrix asked, “Because she certainly doesn’t hold herself like a pure-blood should. Her blood is probably as muddy as she was the day we found her in Diagon Alley. Am I right, Muddy?”_

_Bellatrix leaned closer, smirking at Hermione, who suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her smirk was identical to the one she wore in the future when—_

Hermione could see the memory swirling in her mind, morphing into the next image. 

_She was cornered by Antonin, Rodolphus, Lucius, and Bellatrix, who wore the same smirk on her lips._

_“Hello Muddy. Miss me?”_

_Hermione looked around, desperately searching for an escape route._

_"Don't bother attempting to escape," Rodolphus growled, "We've got you surrounded. You take another step, and it'll be the last thing you do."_

_"Lestrange," Lucius warned, "The Dark Lord wants her alive remember? We can't harm her... not too badly, at least."_

_A whimper escaped Hermione’s lips, and Bellatrix cackled in glee. Hermione flinched at the sound, reminding her of—_

Oh no. Not this, anything but this. Hermione tried to block it out of her mind, but like McGonagall said, the harder she tried, the clearer the image became. 

_Bellatrix had her pinned to the ground in Malfoy Manor, wand in hand after having dealt out a number of Cruciatus Curses to the witch._

Hermione could almost feel the pain of it again as she watched Bellatrix cast the spell again. 

_Her scream echoed around the room, and then Bellatrix was questioning her again. Hermione refused to give anything up, of course. Bellatrix pulled out a small dagger that made the present-day Hermione flinch to see._

She couldn’t bear to watch this again. With every ounce of concentration she could gather, she made the memory change again. 

_She was back in detention with Bellatrix, but they weren’t fighting. They weren’t even talking; just sitting in their separate spots, with Bellatrix looking at the stars, and Hermione looking at Bellatrix._

McGonagall exited her mind and shook her head. 

“That’s who Bellatrix turns into?” she whispered, “She did… that to you?” 

Hermione nodded slowly. “And that’s what I’m trying to prevent.” 

“Wow,” McGonagall breathed. “Miss Granger, if there’s anything I can do to help, either with trying to prevent that, or with… well, dealing with anything I’ve seen today, please let me know. On a lighter note, you did very well today. If we keep practicing like this, I’m sure you’ll be able to Occlude in no time.” 

“Thank you, Professor. You have no idea how much this will help.” 

“There’s no need to thank me,” McGonagall smiled, waving a hand. 

“I should go,” Hermione announced, “I’ve taken up enough of your day already.” 

“I’ll let you know when I have free time so we can try again. Goodbye, Miss Granger.”

“Goodbye, Professor.”

Hermione stepped outside and leaned against the door after closing it behind her. Merlin, that was difficult to handle. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, her brain realising how tired she was after that. She should go back to the common room and rest her eyes for a bit. 

In a daze, she wandered through the castle to her common room and said the password, but nothing happened. She frowned and tried again, but she still couldn’t get in. She groaned loudly, unsure of what was happening. 

“Er— Are you alright?” 

Hermione glanced at the boy who was speaking to her, and did a double take. It was a Gryffindor, whom she recognised instantly. 

“Neville?” she blurted out, earning a confused look. 

“My name is Frank…” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Neville is my father.” 

“Right, sorry.” Hermione shook her head softly. Her brain was muddled with memories from two different timelines, and she was too tired to figure out which was which. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“This is the Gryffindor common room…” Frank pointed to the portrait of the Fat Lady, and realisation dawned on Hermione. She glanced down at her Slytherin robes sadly. 

“Oh. Sorry, I must have gotten lost,” she lied, “I’m… new here. I’ll just head back to my common room.

Frank nodded and entered the common room, leaving Hermione alone in the hallway. She turned around, and froze when she came face to face with Bellatrix. Images flashed in her head, still fresh in her mind from her session with McGonagall. 

“What was all that about?” 

“None of your business,” Hermione muttered, shoving past her.

Bellatrix grabbed Hermione’s wrist, making her turn back around. In a split second and without even thinking, Hermione had her wand drawn and pressed into Bellatrix’s neck. 

“Leave me the fuck alone,” she spat. 

“Woah, easy.” Bellatrix held her hands up in surrender, her brow furrowed in confusion. “I was just asking. What’s the big deal?” 

“Why do you care? All I am is a filthy mudblood to you, right?” 

“I— What’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Merlin, you’re so hot and cold all the time!” Hermione groaned, “One minute you’re insulting me at every chance you get, and the next you’re… trying to have a civil conversation? Is it some sort of a game to you? What’s your goal?” 

Bellatrix couldn’t seem to find an answer. She took a step back and folded her arms across her chest. 

“Who says I’m trying to be civil?” 

Hermione sighed and pocketed her wand again. “See what I mean? One step forward, two steps back. Merlin, you’re infuriating.” 

“Slytherin common room is in the dungeons.”

“I know.” 

“Then why are you—“

“I don’t know! I zoned out while walking.”

“Alright then.” 

Hermione shook her head and retreated back the way she came. She reached the right common room and headed straight to the dormitory to collapse face-down onto her bed, feeling tears spilling out onto the pillow. 

Eventually her exhaustion took over, and she fell into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> join the Bellamione Cult Discord!  
> https://discord.gg/pcfMU4F


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